Public Relations
by blueroom
Summary: Jayne was against taking a new passenger aboard Serenity, but he wouldn't've shot her for it. By the time he did shoot her, things had changed some.
1. Chapter 1

Title: Public Relations

Author: Blueroom

Summary: Jayne was against taking a new passenger aboard _Serenity, _but he wouldn't've shot her for it. By the time he did shoot her, things had changed some.

Author's Note: Set sometime post-_Ariel_ and pre-movie. Slight spoiler for _Ariel._ This is a slightly revised version of the original story of the same title that I posted on The original had more sexual content.

Disclaimer: The _Firefly_ 'verse and all who inhabit it belong to Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy, Inc. I respectfully borrow them; my only profit is pleasure.

The crew heard about it when _Serenity_ was en route to Shamballah, three days from port.

"Another passenger?" Kaylee beamed at the others from her perch at the mess table. "Shiny."

"Yeah, real shiny." Jayne didn't trouble to hide his disgust. "Look how great the last batch of passengers turned out." He took a break from gobbling his rations to glare at the two biggest pains in his personal ass, the stuck-up doctor and his feng le sister.

The doctor, as usual, tightened his lips and got all red and sore-looking, but he just turned his eyes away. The crazy girl stared back at Jayne and grinned. She scared the hell out of him, but he also felt a little sneaking bit sorry for her, which made him madder. For the thousandth time he wondered if she really could kill him with her brain. Then he wondered if she knew he was wondering it--_Ah, hell._ He went back to eating.

Kaylee, of course, piped right up in defense of her precious pet Simon. "I think it's grand havin' a doctor on board," she said, patting Simon's arm. Jayne couldn't believe a man would let a woman baby him and fight his battles for him like that. He'd toss any woman who fussed over him in public -- well, maybe not if it was Kaylee. She was sappy, but she was a good kid. Treated him better than he deserved. Remembering how he had embarrassed her before, Jayne bit back a crack about not knowing that Simon had finally gotten on board her. Mal hadn't taken too kindly to remarks like that lately, anyway. _Damn, that was a funny one, too,_ he thought _Maybe some other time._ "So who is this new passenger?" he asked around a mouthful of protein mush.

"Don't know much about her," was the captain's reply.

Jayne was all attention. "Her?" He swallowed his mush.

Zoe and Wash snickered, and even Inara hid a smile. Mal replied, "Don't be getting' your hopes up, Jayne. Somethin' tells me she ain't your kind of woman."

"I ain't picky," Jayne leaned back in his chair and grinned. "Not out here where there ain't a lot o' choice."

"Then let me be a tad more precise," Mal said with an edge to his voice. "She's not the kind of woman who'd likely be interested in you. And that bein' the case, you'll be leavin' her alone, dong ma?"

"Right, Mal, sure. Unless," Jayne added, "she _gets_ interested."

"Highly unlikely, Jayne."

"Still--"

Shepherd Book interrupted what threatened to become a protracted exchange between the two most stubborn people on the ship. "Can you tell us what you do know about her, Captain?"

"Core-born, been living on Osiris."

Jayne groaned. Just what the ship needed: another snooty nitwit from the Core planets, someone who wouldn't have the first clue about how things worked in the black and would look down on the crew. On him.

Mal spared the merc a glance and a "told-you-so" kind of smile, then continued, "Monte's set up a meet on Shamballah. If I come to terms with her, we'll be carryin' her out to Arbuckle's Moon. Takin' some cargo out there, too."

The shepherd raised his eyebrows. "Bit of an unexpected destination for a lady from the Core."

"Yeah, well, that's where we come in," replied Mal. "No scheduled passenger ships make that route, but it seems this traveler is able to pay for transport. And," he added, looking meaningfully around at his crew, "for discretion."

Zoe nodded. "Of course, sir." Most of the others murmured something along the same line as they started eating again.

Shepherd Book still looked thoughtful. Jayne would've bet anything -- shy of Vera -- that he knew what Book was wondering: _What kind of business does a Core lady have on a shithole Rim-rock like Arbuckle's?_ Jayne was wondering that, too, and he was also wondering why in hell, just after that "told-you-so" look from Mal, crazy River had looked right at him, at Jayne, and . . . winked.


	2. Chapter 2

Two hours after touchdown on Shamballah, after the crew had rounded up fuel cells, food, and other supplies, the cargo for Arbuckle's Moon came aboard. It was just a few dozen crates, but it was a good load, the kind of stuff that paid well but didn't take up a lot of space: med supplies, microelectronics, spices. While Jayne and Wash stowed the crates, Mal and Zoe headed out to find the restaurant where Monte had arranged for the captain to meet _Serenity_'s prospective passenger. Then Wash went off to catch some sack time. The doctor was in the infirmary as usual, puzzling over the scans of his sister's brain, and the sister, much to Jayne's annoyance, was hanging out in the cargo hold, playing some kind of card game with Kaylee.

Jayne knew why Kaylee was there. She was curious about the new passenger, wanted to see her come aboard--if she did come aboard. There was still a chance that Mal'd come to his senses and realize that the last thing they needed on this boat was another civilian, especially on a haul to Arbuckle's Moon. Anything could happen on a run that far out to the edge.

But if she _did_ come aboard . . . well, Jayne was curious, too. That's why he was hanging around in the hold. Might as well take the measure of this new nuisance first chance he got, and anyway Mal'd told him to keep an eye on things. That meant he was in charge, didn't it, while the cap and Zoe were off-ship? He thought about ordering River back to her quarters but decided it would lead to too much trouble. _Ah, hell, she ain't really doin' nothin' . . . just bein' spooky._

Jayne was tempted to head for his bunk and a wash. Kaylee had turned off the aircirc while the ship was grounded to save fuel, and loading even the small cargo had left him sweaty. Might be nice to greet the new passenger clean, and in his best shirt -- _Don't be a mooncalf!_ A fancy-ass Core lady wouldn't see the difference between his best shirt and his worst. To be fair, Jayne had to admit, the difference was slight. He wished Mal had taken him instead of Zoe to the meet. Hanging around like this was getting on his nerves, making him twitchy. But Jayne had a couple of ways of relieving that feeling, and one of them was something he could do right here in the cargo hold. With a grunt he turned his back on the girls and their game and headed toward his iron. _Might as well just sweat some more._ He loaded up the bar for some squats.


	3. Chapter 3

Mal and Zoe arrived at the restaurant right on time. Good choice, not too disreputable. The kind of place where you could eat without wondering too hard what your food was made of, or expecting to be in a fight before you finished it. Quiet enough for conversation, loud enough to cover what was said low-voiced at any particular table.

They stepped inside and looked around. It was midday, and the place was fairly full, but Mal had no trouble recognizing the passenger; there'd been a photo in Monte's wave. To the captain's relief, and somewhat to his surprise, she was dressed less expensively, less conspicuously Core, than in that photo. She wore a plain dark green coat over a black long-sleeved shirt, gray pants, black boots. The only jewelry showing was a black metal watch. In the photo she'd worn an elaborate updo, but now her brown hair fell around her face to the base of her neck, and bangs shaded her eyes. She was decent-looking, but no way beautiful -- not someone who'd draw stares. _So far so good,_ Mal thought.

He led Zoe to the woman's small table. "Mind if we join you?"

She'd been watching them approach. "Captain Reynolds, I believe."

"The same," Mal said as he took a chair. "This is my first officer, Zoe Warren. And you are . . . Miss Smith?" He said the name with a smile, just so she'd know he thought her choice of alias was droll.

"Believe it or not, Captain Reynolds, Smith _is_ my name." She smiled. "If I take passage on your vessel, I'll be happy to show you my ID."

"About that passage-taking," Mal said. "Monte said you were interested in riding with us to Arbuckle's Moon. That correct?"

She nodded. And waited.

_Not overly forthcoming with information,_ Mal noted. _Gotta like that._ He named a fare. "That's for a private room in our passenger dorm, which, only fair to tell you, is small. Cabins're okay, though. Yours'll have its own head. We're a cargo ship, got no entertainment lounge or anything. But you'll have full kitchen privileges, and you're welcome to join us at evening meals in the common area if you like. If you bring your own food aboard, I can almost guarantee it'll be left alone."

She laughed. "Sounds fair."

"You bring a weapon aboard," Mal continued in a pleasant tone, "I'll have to ask you to leave it in my safe."

"That's fair, too. How long is the passage?"

"Twenty days." _Assuming nothing breaks down. _ "We'll stop on Erunam on the way, delivering some cargo. It'll be quick, just in and out. I could extend it some if you've got any business there?"

"That won't be necessary, but thank you. Will there be other passengers traveling to Arbuckle's Moon?" Miss Smith asked.

Mal and Zoe exchanged a glance. "Not really," Mal replied. "Thing is, we've got a couple of crew who bunk in the passenger dorm, next to the infirmary. Quiet, refined folks. You won't hardly notice them. A preacher. And our ship's doctor and his sister. Just a kid."

"That sounds fine." She drew a breath and looked at Mal, then at Zoe. "Is there anything you'd like to ask me?"

_Only about a dozen things,_ Mal thought,_ starting with how you got hooked through to Monte and why you're bound for an outer moon._ He smiled."Is there anything you want to tell me?"

"Captain Reynolds, I feel you've been forthright with me, and the person who put me in touch with the person who put me in touch with you--" Mal nodded encouragingly "--told me that you had the reputation of being an honorable man." Mal tried not to look surprised.

"He is that," Zoe said.

"So I think it's only fair to tell you that I'm . . . that I may be -- that is, I may be going to be in trouble with the Alliance."

Mal sat back in his chair and exchanged another glance with Zoe. "That a fact?"

"Could you be," Zoe said, "a little more specific?"

Miss Smith ran both hands through her hair, roughing it up considerable. "It's, uh, it's kind of hard to explain."

"I'd gathered that," Mal said, and waited.

"Okay, first of all, I'm not a criminal. I haven't broken any law. Not one. But I did something a while back . . . something that was perfectly legal, but the Alliance has decided it doesn't like what I did. It was a . . . a public thing, lots and lots of people know about it, but no one knows that it was me who did it."

Mal nodded, again with the encouraging. He hoped to hell that Zoe was getting something out of this.

"At least, no one was supposed to know. But now I've heard, through a few good friends with friends in high places, that they might find out. If they did, they might be mad enough to punish me. Not for what I did, not openly. That would make them look bad. But they could fake something up, taxes, maybe something worse, I don't know. I just know I don't want them after me. I've heard bad things can happen. . . ."

"That they surely can." Mal gave her a considering look. "So you want to lie low for a while in case the Alliance comes after you? Which, let's not forget, they might not."

"Yes. And . . . well, there's more."

"Ain't there always?" Mal flicked another glance at Zoe. She was bemused, probably confused, but he didn't pick up any of her subtle signals, the telltale tightenings of lips or narrowings of eyes that said "no way" or "danger" or "let it lie." So he waited for Miss Smith to finish unburdening herself.

"The thing is, I might be getting ready to do it again. The thing I did before. I want to do it again. Actually I think I _have_ to. It's still perfectly legal, but if I do it, the Alliance will probably be angrier than they already are. I'll keep my name out of it, like before, but they're pretty good at finding out things. So if I _am_ in danger--" she shrugged "--it'll get worse."

"If," said Mal, "you do this thing again."

"Yes."

"This perfectly legal yet strangely mysterious thing."

"Yes."

"Which you're probably gonna do."

"Not right away," Miss Smith said hastily. "It'll take, oh, I don't know, maybe a year. Maybe less, maybe longer."

"And you can do it on Arbuckle's Moon?"

"I can do it anywhere. But that sounded like a quiet, out-of-the-way place."

"Won't deny that." Mal sat for a moment, thinking.

Miss Smith stood up and pointed at the service bar across the room. "Would either of you like something?"

Zoe said, "I'd take a beer. Captain?"

"Make it two."

After Miss Smith had left the table, Zoe said, "Thoughtful, sir. Giving us a chance to talk alone for a minute but letting us keep her in view."

"Yeah. She's no idiot. So?"

"Wish I knew what this _thing_ was."

"Damn, I was hoping you had it all figured out and could tell me. We could just ask her."

"She plainly doesn't want to talk about it, sir. Way I see it, we either take her at her word it was lawful or not. Does it make a difference?"

Mal grinned at his longtime second. "Nah. But I am kinda curious."

"We take her on board, sir, we'll have twenty days to find out."

Miss Smith returned with a tray. She sat down, put a beer in front of each of them, and looked at them expectantly.

Mal raised his glass. "Here's to Arbuckle's." He took a long drink. "I'll call my ship, they'll send a mule for your luggage."

"I can carry all I have."

Another couple of swallows, and Mal was finished and ready to be off planet. "You're my kind of passenger, Miss Smith. Let's hit the sky."


	4. Chapter 4

Jayne had moved from squats through bench presses to barbell curls. He was good and sweaty by the time the bay ramp's motor kicked over. The girls' card game had broken up a while back when River got bored with winning and went off to take a nap, but Kaylee was still hanging around. It'd amused Jayne to see her fiddling with pieces of equipment here and there in the hold, pretending to be busy when she was really just curious. Now it looked like both of them were about to have their curiosity satisfied.

As the ramp dropped, afternoon light silhouetted three figures. _So much for the captain comin' to his senses,_ Jayne thought, _least ten percent of her fare comes to my pocket_.

The passenger strode into the hold between the captain and Zoe. Jayne sat up, straddling his weight bench, to look her over. Kaylee turned from where she'd been "wear-testing" a set of lift hydraulics.

Whatever Jayne had expected, the passenger wasn't it. Not glamorous, like Inara. Not rich-looking, either, like the women Jayne had seen on his few visits to Core worlds, or the ones he saw during their slumming jaunts to the outer planets and moons. She was almost as tall as Zoe but a lot less curvy. She had strong features and an athletic build, but she was nothing special in the looks department. Not bad, but she sure wasn't the big-bosomed, jewel-dripping, horny heiress he'd been hoping for. Not even blonde. She was dressed kind of plain and had less luggage than Jayne'd had when he came on board, just a shoulder bag, a metal valise, and a duffel. Something about her, though, said that she was out of her place. Jayne wasn't sure what it was. Maybe it was the fact that although nothing about her was flashy, everything was sleek. Maybe it was the way she held herself, easy but watchful. Maybe it was just that she was so clean.

"Oh, hey, Cap'n," Kaylee chirped, turning from her so-called work and giving the newcomer one of her most charming smiles. Jayne noticed that Mal was carrying a string bag with a dozen or so wrapped parcels inside.

Zoe headed upstairs toward the bridge as Mal made the introductions. "Kaylee, Miss Smith is comin' with us to Arbuckle's Moon. Miss Smith, this here's Kaylee Frye, our mechanic."

"I'm happy to meet you, Miss Frye," the stranger said. She put down her valise and reached out to shake Kaylee's hand. Jayne could tell that Kaylee was pleased, but surprised--she wiped her hand hurriedly with a rag first, and checked for grease.

The whole thing struck Jayne as ridiculous, all this Missing and hand-shaking, like a tea party in the hold. If Mal was set on acting all culturized around this passenger lady, he'd no doubt just pass right over Jayne. But the Smith woman was looking straight at him.

"And this," Mal said resignedly, with a cautionary look at Jayne, "is Jayne Cobb."

"Public relations," Jayne said. The passenger smiled at him and he stood up, almost tripping over the gorram bench.

Mal's smile faltered briefly. _Serve him right,_ Jayne thought. Mal'd made the public relations crack in the first place -- now he could just live with it. Jayne figured Mal hadn't been likely to tell this Miss Smith that Jayne was his hired gun, but Jayne didn't want anyone thinking he was a stevedore or something.

"That's right," Mal said, smooth as ever. "Public relations. Jayne, meet Miss Smith."

Jayne stuck out his hand without bothering to wipe off the sweat. "Pleasure."

"The same, Mr. Cobb." She shook it. Jayne watched her closely afterward, but she didn't rub her palm on her trousers. Her eyes were green, he noticed. They suited her all right, but that color was bad luck in a woman.

"And now," Mal asked the stranger, "how 'bout I take you through the common area and show you to your cabin? You'll meet the rest of the crew later." He took his comm out of his pocket and spoke into it: "Wash, we fly in five."

"In five, captain," came the pilot's voice.

The passenger nodded at Kaylee and at Jayne as the captain ushered her away.

Kaylee giggled. "Mr. Cobb," she whispered.

"Shut it," the mercenary hissed at her. "Miss Frye." He couldn't help smirking at that, and they both laughed.

"D'y'think we'll have to keep it up for three whole weeks?" Kaylee asked. "Only when she's around, I hope."

"What'sa matter? 'Fraid you can't do it? Ain't so hard t'be polite, y'know."

"Maybe not for you guys in _public relations_." Kaylee spluttered with laughter again. "She seems nice, though, don'tcha think?"

"Thought she'd be more fancible. You know, rich-like, like that consul we saw with 'Nara."

"Jayne, did you see those pants she was wearin'?"

"Nothin' special. They fit her okay, though."

"They probably cost more'n you make in an average job. I may not dress up much, but I've learned some things from Inara. Smith's stuff is _good, _Osiris good."

"Like your poncy doctor's."

"Yeah. . . . " Kaylee frowned. "They've got a lot in common, I'll bet."

Jayne didn't think the doctor was near good enough for Kaylee, but he wasn't about to let her think she wasn't good enough for the doctor. "Hey, now, Kaylee," " he told her, "you're about a hundred times prettier than that Miss Smith, and don't you forget it."

"That's sweet, Jayne."

"She's too old for him, anyway."

"Yep, way too old," Kaylee said brightly. "She must be, oh, thirty."

The thirty-seven-year-old Jayne frowned._Ain't that a pisser? _"I'd say thirty-five," he growled.

"See you at dinner." Kaylee scampered off, no doubt to prettify herself up for the evening meal.

"Yeah." Jayne tidied up his weights and wiped down his bench, wondering whether Miss Osiris Smith would make an appearance in the common area. He also wondered what had been in that string bag, and after takeoff, when he judged enough time had passed, he moused on into the kitchen. He found the bag and its still-wrapped parcels in a food locker with a note in Mal's writing: "Do not touch. I mean it, Jayne."

_Ah, hell. _


	5. Chapter 5

When Jayne stepped out of the shower the smell hit him. He couldn't believe it at first, but there was no mistaking that odor. He almost dropped the towel as he ran to his bunk to throw on his clothes. Charging up to the common area, he collided with Kaylee in the entry hatch. Wash and Zoe were tumbling through the hatch at the other end.

"It is, it really is," Wash was crooning excitedly. He clutched his wife's hand. "Wo de ma, bao bei, you might just have to resuscitate me."

"I can do that." Zoe grinned and pulled him to her for a quick smack on the lips. "But don't die till after dinner."

Jayne was staring into the kitchen. The new passenger was there, and she looked to be cooking side by side with Book, whose night it was. She opened the grill compartment and out came a wave of that smell. Jayne went weak in the knees.

"Steak. Oh, dear lords of the 'verse, by all that is good and decent, actual steak." Wash continued to babble as he draped himself over the counter and gazed lovingly at the grill.

Miss Smith saluted Jayne and Kaylee with a pair of tongs. She said to Wash, "You must be Mr. Warren. Your wife warned me to expect drool."

Wash turned to Zoe. "You knew? You knew and you didn't tell me? Truly you are the goddess of wonderful surprises!"

The Smith woman laughed, then said to the group, "I know it's forward of me to barge into your kitchen like this, but I wanted to offer something to all of you on my first night. I asked your captain for suggestions, and. . . ."

Kaylee glanced at Book with sudden concern.

"Don't worry about me," the shepherd said. "Miss Smith has kindly brought me some fresh eggs. Eggs! I am in heaven -- or its earthly equivalent." He dropped a microscopic pinch of some herb into the pan he was tending.

"So," Miss Smith asked, "everyone else is okay with steak?"

"No problem there," Jayne said, mouth watering. "They're big ones, too."

Everyone looked at him.

"What? I saw the packages when they came back from town."

"We're almost ready," Miss Smith said to Book. "Is everyone here?"

The shepherd looked up from his pan. Simon and River were just coming in, Mal had entered while they were talking, and Inara's light footstep sounded in the corridor. "You'll meet the others at the table," he told her. "We can't keep perfectly cooked food waiting." He raised his voice. "If everyone will get seated, Miss Smith and I will serve the meal."

Jayne took his seat and noticed that there was an empty glass next to the usual mugs at each place.

"Mr. Cobb," called the Smith woman from behind the counter, causing Wash to gape, Zoe to jab Wash in the ribs with an elbow, and Jayne to stammer, "Huh? I mean, what?"

"You'll find a couple of bottles over here. Would you be kind enough to open them for us?"

"Bottles?" Jayne scrambled to his feet and around the counter. "Yeah, I'll oblige."

"I thought you might," she replied without looking up, placing steaks on plates. "It seemed like a public relations kind of thing."

Eyes met across the table. Lips were bitten.

"Ow!" Wash looked aggrievedly at his wife. "Lamby toes, you're supposed to wait until I _make_ the wisecrack before you jab me."

"Just being proactive, dear."

A moment later everyone was sitting down. Jayne wanted to dive into his food, but he was still holding those big gorram bottles. He'd been hoping for whiskey, but it was some kind of wine. _Pansy drink. Figures._

Miss Smith looked over as she sat between Wash and Book. "You can just pass those around, Mr. Cobb. Thank you." Jayne handed one bottle to Kaylee on his right, filled his own glass from the other, and handed it to Mal on his left. Everyone started eating, with exclamations of appreciation. Jayne hadn't had a steak that good since . . . he wasn't sure he ever had. There was some kind of green stuff, too. Fresh. He reached for his wine glass. Might as well gargle.

"Don't gulp it, Jayne," Kaylee whispered to him, real soft. "Drink it slow. It ain't for getting' drunk, it's for . . . tastin'."

Jayne looked critically at the liquid in his glass. It was a very dark red, almost purple. It seemed thick, like velvet. The surface practically glowed. He took a swallow. "Hey, not bad." He raised his glass to Miss Smith, who said, "Glad you approve."

A bottle reached Simon, who looked at the label and said, "Approve? This is -- quite special. Thank you."

"I see that some introductions are in order," Mal said. He'd talked this particular issue over with Simon. "Miss Smith, meet our ship's doctor, Simon."

"Hello, doctor." If Miss Smith noticed the absence of a surname, she gave no sign.

"And that young lady," Mal continued, hoping that the kid wasn't going to do anything too weird right at the start, "is the doc's sister, Lorel." Mal had prepared for this with Simon and River. Lorel was the girl's middle name, seldom used but at least familiar to her. He'd drilled the crew, too. He hoped they'd remember.

"Hi, Lorel."

The girl looked at Miss Smith solemnly, twirling a strand of her long dark hair around a forefinger. "You can call me River," she said. "That's my real name."

_Ruttin' terrific_, Mal thought.

Simon gasped and whispered something to her, but she shook him off impatiently. "It's okay, Simon."

Jayne snorted. "Knew she wouldn't be able to--"

"Miss Smith," the companion interrupted, her musical voice quietly but effectively silencing everyone else, "I'm Inara Serra. Thank you for this wonderful meal."

"I'm very happy to do it, Miss Serra," the passenger replied. "And also to make your acquaintance." The woman had clearly recognized 'Nara as a companion, Jayne saw, and was at ease with it. At least she wasn't prissy. Or maybe she was sly, Jayne thought, remembering the consul who'd visited Inara's shuttle. Smith didn't exactly look interested in Inara in that way, though, just polite and friendly like she seemed toward everyone.

More eating, more exclamations and murmurs and chewing sounds. Jayne wondered if everyone else was gonna finish their steaks and concluded, regretfully, that they were. There was some small talk, people asking the Smith woman what she thought of her cabin and her saying it was fine, and them telling her to ask if she had any questions about the ship, and that kind of chitchat. Jayne mostly ignored it. Then it got interesting.

"So, Miss Smith," Wash said, all jolly, "what do you do? What's your line of work?"

She put down her knife and 'sticks and smiled easily at the little man. "I'm between jobs right now."

River remarked in a conversational tone, "She's a liar."

"River!" Simon was mortified. "Please forgive her, Miss Smith, she didn't mean anything by it. She's -- been ill." He made as if to take his sister away from the table.

"No, Simon! It's like I said!" River's voice was rising with distress. She resisted as Simon started to pull her out of her chair. "She tells lies for a living!"

"River, come on," Simon urged her, tense with embarrassment. Mal began a soft-spoken apology to the Smith woman.

River cast an anguished glance across the table at Smith. Jayne looked at her, too. The passenger appeared thunderstruck. But not, he noticed, angry.

"It's all right, doctor," Smith said, "Let her stay. Please. What she said -- it's true."

Mal broke the surprised silence. "Care to enlighten us a bit?"

"I'm a . . professional storyteller. That means that I make things up. And sometimes--" here Smith turned her gaze on River, who had quieted and was looking cautiously back "--sometimes when I'm joking with friends about what I do, I say that I tell lies for a living. Now," she said to River, "I wonder how you knew that."

Jayne found himself holding his breath. He figured everyone else was, too. _Gorram moonbrain might just as well've worn a sign sayin' Mind-readin' Alliance Experiment Freak._ _And, oh yeah, Fugitive._

"Sometimes I just know things," River muttered.

Smith gazed at her for a moment or two longer. "Well, aren't you remarkable?" she said, and then she smiled right at River, a warm amazed smile like she'd seen something wonderful.

River favored Smith with that loopy grin of hers. "Is _that_ what I am? Yes. I am. Remarkable." She turned to Simon. "Can I have some more wine?"

"I think one glass was more than enough," he said a bit shakily. "Uh, Miss Smith--"

"Will you tell me your next story?" River said to Smith.

The stranger took it in stride. "When the time is right, I will. But you have to remember that it's mine to tell, okay?"

"Okay. Simon, I'm tired. I'd like to go to sleep now."

The doctor stood.

"Much as I hate to break up the party," Mal said, also standing, "I've got things to do on the bridge. Zoe, Wash?" Jayne caught the captain's calculating expression when he glanced at Smith. _'Spose Mal's trying to figure what the hell that lyin' business meant,_ he thought_. Maybe Smith's as crazy as the girl._ That was an uncomfortable notion. The next was worse: _Or maybe she's a spy, or another Alliance mole._

"Coming, sir." Zoe nodded to the passenger. "Thanks again, Miss Smith. That was a tasty introduction."

"What she said," Wash declared fervently.

Book got up and collected a double handful of plates. "The least I can do is clean up, since this was my night to cook."

Inara also rose. "I'll help you carry the dishes, Shepherd. Miss Smith, my compliments."

As Wash followed Mal and his wife through the hatchway he asked, "Can we work Smith into the kitchen rotation?"

"I'll take another turn," Miss Smith said, loudly enough for them to hear her, "but only after I've seen what all of you can do."

Jayne groaned. Tomorrow was his day. "Got any good stuff left?" he asked her.

"Nothing but this last bit of wine," she replied, holding up a bottle, "and it won't keep. Split with me?"

Jayne nodded. "Damn good wine," he said, figuring he sounded just like a -- what was it called? Oh yeah, a connasewer.


	6. Chapter 6

Mal leaned back against a bulkhead and cast a quick glance around the bridge of his ship, taking comfort, as always, in the view of the endless star-speckled black outside. He cocked an eyebrow at Zoe. "What do you make of that 'liar' business?"

"'Professional storyteller,' sir?" Her tone was delicately doubtful.

"I know," said Mal. "Phrase could describe all manner of activities, some of 'em downright uncongenial."

"Or," Wash said from the pilot's chair, where he was absently sticking first one finger, then another, into the gaping jaws of a velociraptor, "it could be the truth." His wife shot him an amusedly skeptical glance, and he added, "That's not just the steak talking."

"Why would a professional storyteller be going to a dirt-poor place like Arbuckle's Moon?" Zoe asked. "I've heard of such people, but it's my impression they'd be likely to practice their trade in the central planets, where there are plenty of people with money, big parties and theaters and all."

"Might have something to do with what she told us about the Alliance," Mal said. "About them being angry at her and her wanting to stay out of their way for a while."

Wash raised his eyebrows. This was news. "So, then, she could be okay." He hoped so -- he liked the woman, and not just for her cooking.

Zoe, ever cautious, still looked dubious. Mal said, "Maybe, maybe not. But there is one thing in her favor. . . ."

"River." Zoe said. "Girl doesn't seem afraid of Smith."

"She wasn't afraid of that first lawman, either," Wash felt compelled to point out. "Didn't pick up on him being an Alliance mole."

"Yeah, but she was fresh out of the box and crazy as a snakebit horse back then," Mal said. "She's calmed down some since then, got her bearings a bit, least on her good days. And it's tue, sometimes she does . . . know things. Jayne says that back on Ariel, she knew those bluehands were comin' for her before they ever showed up."

"Well, sir," Zoe said, "that is a point, but I don't think we should trust Smith on the strength of River's intuition."

"Hell, no." Mal straightened. "Wash, can you set things up so any 'cast off this ship is jammed or scrambled, except your own?"

The pilot spun his chair around to face the control board and started fiddling with toggles and switches. "Consider it done. But what about Inara? She might be trying to do business from her shuttle."

"I'll speak to her, let her know that for the time being she'll need to route her waves through you. She won't like it much, but I think she'll understand. And in the meantime, let's see if we can figure out who Smith really is and what she's up to. No interrogation, nothin' like that. She's a passenger and she's done nothin' wrong that I know of. But keep your eyes and ears open. Somethin' useful might come up in conversation."


	7. Chapter 7

Jayne was in a foul mood the following afternoon. His attempt to pump Smith last night, over that last glass of wine, had fallen flat. He'd been real subtle, too, with his hints and questions, but none of them had turned up any information. Not only that, but Jayne had a feeling he might've gotten a little bit drunk before it was over, which was annoying because Smith had seemed completely unaffected. On top of everything else, Jayne figured he'd get more than the usual amount of disgusted grumbling about his cooking that evening, after that fancy-ass feast last night. So when he entered the hold and saw what was going on, he barked out kind of harsh, "Hey! What're you doin' with my weights?"

Miss Smith lowered the dumbbell she'd been using for tricep kickbacks and stepped away from the bench. "I'm very sorry, Mr. Cobb. I didn't realize -- I saw Shepherd Book working out, and assumed it was communal equipment."

"It ain't. It's mine."

"It won't happen again." She took her towel off the bench -- at least she'd had the common decency to use a towel -- nodded at him kind of businesslike, not friendly but not unfriendly, either, and walked off.

"Shepherd--" Jayne began, louder than he meant to, "he asked first."

She stopped. "I see. Well, then, do you think it might be possible for me to have the use of your weights, say, three times a week? When you're not using them, of course."

"Yeah, that'd be possible."

"Thank you. I'll keep it in mind." She turned away again.

"Y'wanna finish your workout now, I don't mind. I'll spot ya on presses."

"I'd appreciate that."

Jayne watched as she loaded up the barbell. No fumbling or hesitation with the plates -- she knew what she was doing, he'd give her that. And she _was_ pretty toned-looking in that snug sleeveless top. The loose tan cargo pants she wore looked a lot like his own. _Kaylee'll prob'ly say they're worth two of our jobs. Huh._

The Smith woman wasn't wasting her time, or his, he realized as he stood behind the bench, eye on the bar, ready to assist if she needed it. She looked to be pulling a nice set of presses, good form, not rushing. _Must do pec flyes and pullovers,_ too, he thought, noticing that her breasts, though small, were firm. Almost perky. Her nipples made bumps in her shirt. Looking at them, he started to feel kind of firm himself. He shifted uncomfortably.

"Oughtta have more weight on the bar," he said as she finished her set without help. "You c'd handle it."

"You think so? Okay, next time I'll move up. Thanks very much." She threw her towel over a shoulder.

"'Bout that three times a week, you c'n go more often if you want--"

When Book came in to spot Jayne, he found the two of them deep in a discussion of the merits of split routines and supersets. Miss Smith said, "Shepherd, hello. Mr. Cobb, we can take this up another time. I know you've got things to do before your adventure in cookery."

"Very funny. Hey," he said as she strolled away, "lemme know when y'want some help with your workouts."

"Or I can help," the shepherd offered.

Jayne was miffed. _They're my weights, gorramit. _"Like I said, lemme know."

She raised a hand in farewell as she left the hold.

"Nice lady," Book observed mildly as Jayne set up a heavy load of plates onto the bar and lowered the bar to begin his deadlifts.

The merc grunted as he hoisted the weights. "She's in good shape for a woman her age," he conceded.

"Better than you know."

"What's that s'posed to mean?" He lowered again.

"Just how old do you think our Miss Smith is?" the shepherd asked.

Jayne shrugged. "Somewhere between thirty an' thirty-five, prob'ly on the high side. Why?"

"She and I got to talking a bit last night, while we were cooking," Book said. "She happened to mention that she's forty-nine years old."

Jayne, who was lowering his bar, let it fall to the floor with a metallic crash. "You're kiddin'! Can't be -- she don't look anywheres near it."

"On the Core planets, people with means age more slowly than the rest of us."

Jayne was confused. "What, they got some secret medical miracle? Youth transplants, or somethin'?"

Book laughed. "No, just optimum nutrition, lifetime UV protection, access to all kinds of products and technologies to enhance well-being. And the best care when they do get ill. In short, a comfortable existence."

"Well, ain't that nice for her," Jayne muttered, slamming the bar onto the rack with more clanging.

"Now, son, don't go blaming Miss Smith for it," the shepherd cautioned while he adjusted the bench for Jayne's incline presses. "Not her fault she was born into the good life. Doesn't mean she took anything away from anyone else. And don't forget -- she's leaving that behind now. Besides," he added, glancing at Jayne, "her age doesn't make any difference to us. Does it?"

"Course not. Nothin' to me. Now can we stop the chin-waggin' so's I can work?"


	8. Chapter 8

_Serenity_ was five days out from Shamballah, with three days to go until Erunam, when Simon decided that he had to do something about River. He just wasn't sure how to go about it. He hated the thought of giving River yet more orders, hemming her in with yet more restrictions and cautions. _And she's seemed calmer lately, too,_ he thought, well aware that that happy state of affairs would likely end if he tried to rein in her comings and goings. He sighed. Just last night Kaylee had told him how River had fallen into a nap in the common area with a smile on her face, and no smoother. . . .

Kaylee. He'd talk this latest worry over with her. The mechanic was more than the closest thing he had to a friend on this ship -- she was a good listener, fond of River and sympathetic to Simon's worries about her. Untutored though she was, Kaylee had common sense and a kind heart, qualities that Simon was coming to value. So he sought Kaylee out in the engine room, where she invited him to make himself comfortable on the floor and hand tools to her while she did something mysterious to the underside of _Serenity_'s main drive. He explained what was bothering him, and then he burst out in tired frustration, "I don't know what to do about it! I hate to keep telling her, no, no, don't do this, don't do that, but she can't simply be allowed to do whatever she pleases. I don't want her to be a nuisance."

Kaylee slid out from under the drive and looked up at him, clear-eyed and smiling a little. "Have y'thought of just _askin'_ Miss Smith whether River's bein' a nuisance?"

"That would be kind of awkward, don't you think? 'Excuse me, Miss Smith, but does it bother you that my sister stares at you a lot? And have you noticed her hanging around in the corridor outside your cabin?' I should think that would make Miss Smith feel rather uncomfortable."

Kaylee shook her head and stood up, dusting her palms on her overalls. "She ain't the one you're worried about makin' uncomfortable, silly. C'mon, I'll go with you to talk to her. Won't be a big deal, you'll see."

Simon didn't think it was a great idea, but he found it hard to resist Kaylee. And he _had_ gone to her for advice, hadn't he? So he followed her into the passenger dorm, and there was River, sitting on the floor outside Miss Smith's cabin, with her cheek pressed to the door. Her eyes were closed, but she opened them when Kaylee approached. When she saw Simon, her shoulders slumped and she took on the resigned expression of someone whose fun is about to be prematurely and unreasonably ended. He felt hurt and confused. _What is she _doing_ here? _

"Come on, River," he whispered, "let's go back to your room." He reached for her arm and she reluctantly stood up.

"Now wait a minute, Simon," Kaylee murmured. "Ain't you forgettin' why we came here?" She tilted her head toward Miss Smith's door, which opened at that very instant.

Miss Smith stood in the doorway and surveyed the little conclave. "Hello," was all she said.

"Er, hello," Simon replied, looking and sounding, Kaylee thought, nervous as hell. "We were just, uh--"

Kaylee interrupted. "Miss Smith, we wanted to ask you if River's been any bother to you."

Miss Smith looked at them all, longest at River, and said, "No. Why do you ask?"

"Seems she likes to sit here next to your room," Kaylee explained. "Wouldn't want it to trouble you, is all."

"It's no trouble. Is there any particular reason you like to sit here?" Miss Smith asked River, mildly.

"I like listening," River said from behind her curtain of dark hair.

"I wasn't aware that I was making any noise," said Miss Smith. She sounded curious but not at all upset. Kaylee shot a reassuring glance at Simon, who was fidgeting.

"Listening to your quiet," River said. "It makes me feel quiet, too."

"River, I don't think that makes any sense," Simon said, gently.

"She does something in there," River insisted, "something that feels like flying. You know--" she said to Simon "--like when we went outside. Looking into the black, clear and free." Thoughtfully, River said, "Ecstacy might be the appropriate word. She does it," the girl added, "twice a day."

Kaylee blushed. Sounded like River was listening in while Smith, well, pleasured herself. Did that mean that River knew when others on _Serenity_ did that? Kaylee hoped not. And Miss Smith did it twice a day, every day? _That's a powerful itch._

"River," Simon said, completely embarrassed now, "that's enough. You can't--"

Miss Smith laughed -- a real laugh, too, not just some polite sound. She leaned against the doorframe and shook with laughter. It was contagious; in spite of their embarrassment Kaylee and Simon found themselves grinning. River stood there with a slight smile, as if the whole thing had amused her a little.

"Wo de ma," Smith said when she stopped laughing, "that's a good one. But I think there's been a misunderstanding. You see, there _is_ something I do in here twice a day. And maybe to somebody like River, someone . . . sensitive, it feels like flying, or ecstacy. Lucky girl." She said to River, "You can join me if you like. I'm no expert, just a beginner, but I'll be happy to teach you what I know about it."

River's face shone. "Yes. I want to learn. Let's start now." She headed for Smith's door.

"Just a minute!" Simon exclaimed. "What are you -- I mean, what do you --?"

Miss Smith said, "Ah, of course. An explanation is needed." She and River exchanged a smile. "I'm sure you've heard, doctor, of meditation?"

Simon felt like a complete ass. The conclusion he'd jumped to --

"Meditation, of course," he mumbled. "I see no harm . . . I mean, I suppose it's all right for River to do _that_ with you." He stopped, feeling he'd just made things worse.

Miss Smith gave him a benign glance. "We can start now. I'll send your sister back to you in, say, twenty minutes?" At his assent she beckoned River into her room and, with a nod to Simon and Kaylee, slid the door shut.

The doctor stood there for a moment, staring blankly at the closed door, until Kaylee took his hand. Kaylee was thrilled. Twenty minutes when Simon didn't have to worry about River? It wasn't much, but she'd take it. She and Simon could have coffee together in the common area. As she led him in that direction, Simon explained to her what meditation was supposed to be.

"Just sittin' and breathin' and thinkin'?" she asked him.

"I think it's more . . . not thinking. Or rather, watching yourself think. I don't really understand it very well, I only know what I've read. Sometimes it's used as a psychiatric therapy, but since that wasn't my practice--"

"Watchin' yourself think," Kaylee echoed. "Don't quite get it. But y'know, it could be good for River."

"Do you think so?"

"Sure, Simon. Remember what she said about 'listenin' to the quiet'? Poor River, she's got so much goin' on in that head of hers, maybe if she could learn to quiet it down and sort it out, so's she know what's her and what's not her, she'd be a lot better."

Simon perked up. "I don't suppose it can hurt. . . ."

"Course not. River's gonna be just fine with Miss Smith. Now, what say we forget about both of 'em for a while?"


	9. Chapter 9

Six days later _Serenity_ slid into Erunam's atmo. Inara disengaged her shuttle and left for an appointment in the small capital. Wash, at Mal's direction, brought the ship down on the outskirts of a straggling market town. Miss Smith drifted into the hold while Mal was briefing the crew.

"Wash has volunteered to stay here with me for the cargo hand-off. It's a straightforward job and we don't expect any trouble," he was saying. "That'll give Jayne a chance to see the local sights."

Jayne grinned. Mal continued, "Zoe, you can go into town with Kaylee, if you want. Kaylee, you know what supplies you need?"

She nodded. "Got Simon's shopping list, too." She noticed the passenger. "Oh, howdy, Miss Smith."

"Hello," Smith said

"You comin' into town?"

"I hadn't really thought about it. Are the doctor and River going to go?"

Kaylee glanced at Mal, who answered, "Not this time. He's gotta stay here and do some, uh, doctory things."

"I see. Well," Miss Smith said, gazing out the open rampway at a maze of ramshackle buildings and dusty canvas stalls under a hot bronze-colored sky, "it doesn't look as though he'll be missing much."

"You may be right at that," Mal said. "Know how this place got its name?"

Miss Smith shook head. "I assumed Erunam was one of the more obscure Buddhist sages, or something like that."

"Spell it backwards," the captain suggested, and she laughed.

Jayne looked puzzled until Zoe whispered something to him. Then he snorted with laughter. "Damn straight," he said.

"Still," Miss Smith said, "it might be good to see what this place is like. . . ."

"You'll be plenty safe," Mal told her, "long's you stay in the center of things, don't wander too far from the ship. And I want everyone back here in six hours, that'll be before dark."

"In that case," Smith said, "I think I will step out, maybe do a little shopping."

"Maybe they have steaks here," Jayne mused.

"Maybe they have a bookstore," she said dryly.

The big man stared at her.

"You, know, books?" She made a page-turning motion. "Once in a while it just feels good to read something from a page instead of a screen."

"Huh. Have fun with that." Jayne stomped down the ramp, Zoe and Kaylee trailing him.

"Six hours, Jayne," Mal yelled.

"Yeah, yeah," came the merc's fading grumble.

Miss Smith returned after less than two hours. Mal met her as she came up the ramp. "Any luck?"

"I found a couple of things." She patted her shoulder bag. "Nothing very exciting. And I had lunch. I think it was lunch. Something on a stick." She shrugged. "I walked around until the heat got to me. It felt good to be outside, and do some people-watching, but I was surprised how quickly I got bored."

"I'm not surprised. This is a pretty boring place. Course," he added, "it's a great big pulsatin' heap of excitement next to Arbuckle's."

He let her chew on that while he greeted the next arrivals.

"Zoe. Kaylee. Got yourself some bullets and some nice new nuts and bolts, did ya?" Zoe nodded. Kaylee clutched a bulging canvas bag.

"Oh, yeah, Cap'n, wait'll--"

"Later, mei mei. What's this I see?" Another figure trudged out of the blazing sun into the hold. "Jayne Cobb, as I live and breathe," Mal drawled. "Glad you're back, you can give Kaylee a hand. But what're you doin' back so soon, anyway?" The captain glanced at Miss Smith and explained, "Usually these stopovers end with Zoe and me pulling him feet first out of a--"

"Barfight, out of a barfight," Jayne threw in, glaring at Mal. It'd been the first thing he could think of to stop Mal saying "whorehouse." _Damn, shoulda said . . . uh. . . ._

Miss Smith said, "You disappoint me, Mr. Cobb."

"Some o' these frontier worlds're pretty rough," Jayne blustered. "Ain't always me starts the fight."

"Oh, that's not what I meant. I meant that I was disappointed in myself because I had you figured out all wrong." She smiled. "I pictured you getting dragged out of a whorehouse."

Kaylee gasped. Mal watched Jayne and Smith, hoping he wouldn't have to break anything up. But Smith was grinning at Jayne, and the big jackass was grinning right back. S_he's _teasing_ him, _Mal realized. _What's more, he doesn't seem to mind. Ta ma de. _

Mal cleared his throat. "Kaylee, Jayne, engine room." The mechanic took Jayne's wrist and tugged the merc toward the engine room.

"Hey," Jayne said, looking back over his shoulder, "sometimes it's a barfight _in_ a whorehouse, y'know."

"You've restored my faith in human nature, Mr. Cobb," Smith called after him.

As Kaylee and Jayne entered the engine room she asked him, "So why didn't ya -- you know, with the whores?"

Jayne kicked gloomily at the bag she'd just set on the floor grate. "They're all ugly in this town."

She giggled. "Never stopped you before. C'mon, Jayne, what's the real reason? You can tell me."

He brandished a wrench. "Y'want me to help you or smack you?"

"Help, please." She stuck out her tongue at him when he glowered.


	10. Chapter 10

That evening River went to Miss Smith's cabin, as usual, for their meditation practice before dinner. They greeted one another with the ancient ritual, palms pressed together before the heart, head bowed, murmurs of "Namaste." The ritual helped demarcate the time they set aside for meditation, Miss Smith had explained. It wasn't essential, it wasn't even important. It just helped. River enjoyed it.

They took their poses. Miss Smith sat with her back against a wall. River had started that way, but now she sat in the middle of the room. Her back never hurt while they were sitting, but she often had trouble staying still. She told herself that tonight she would definitely manage to do it, would definitely not fidget or twitch. Yet although Miss Smith was calm as always, River sensed a hint of suppressed excitement, a pleasant mild anticipation. And River sensed also that it had something to do with her. She wondered if Miss Smith would tell her what it was when they were finished sitting.

Miss Smith said softly, "Are you ready, River? Right, let's begin. Focus on the breath. . . ."

River no longer needed Miss Smith's occasional murmurs of guidance or help. She knew what it was that she was trying to do in these sessions, and she knew that she was already better at it than Miss Smith. But she found the older woman's voice soothing, a reminder of the unintrusive, accepting companionship that Miss Smith offered. River thought that someday she might be able to offer Miss Smith something in return.

Haltingly, uncertainly at first, River felt the change inside. Her breath slowed and steadied, passing in and out of her belly like a glow. The blood in her veins stopping racing and became a deep certain tide, bearing her up. The avalanche of sensation and awareness that lurked outside, sometimes breaking through her defenses, always on the verge of overwhelming her, whirled and spun madly around her and then seemed to fall away, so that she floated serene and detached above it. Listening to the quiet. And then something new and wonderful happened: the storm shifted and formed a pattern, and chaos became a grand dance, and she was a mote, a star in the dance, and she saw herself and all else clearly and with compassion--

_I did it,_ River exulted, and that ended it all. She was sitting on a hard floor in a posture that made her knees hurt. She could hear Miss Smith breathing. This was as bad as coming in from the black. Worse. She wanted to break something.

"Nothing is lost," Miss Smith murmured. "It's there, always, inside of you. You will find it again, today, tomorrow, ten years from now. Focus on the breath. . . ."

At the end of their practice River and Miss Smith saluted each other again, and then Miss Smith smiled.

River thought, _She intends something good for me._

Miss Smith opened one of her drawers, took out a flat wrapped package, and handed it to River. "Go ahead," she said. "It's for you."

"Not my natal day," River pointed out. "Nor an occasion for ritual object exchange."

"No occasion needed. Just open it."

River needed no further urging. She tore off the brown paper. Inside was a pad of drawing paper and a box of colored paint-sticks. "One hundred fifty-eight colors," River said at once. "With blending of hues and mixing of values, a possible chromatic total of--"

Miss Smith laughed. "No need to calculate the possibilities, River. Do you want to draw with them?"

River clutched the pad and box to her chest.

"I've seen you with the pens and old pieces of paper. I thought you might like to try color."

"I would," River said. "I expect I'll be very good."

"I expect you will."

River smiled. "I'll make a special picture for you, Miss Smith. Something important. For your story." Seeing a shadow cross her benefactor's face, River added, "Don't worry. Won't let anyone else see it, won't give away any secrets. Trust me."

"Okay. I trust you. Have fun."

River was halfway down the corridor to her own room when she remembered. She ran back and called through Miss Smith's door, "Thank you."


	11. Chapter 11

_"So why didn't ya -- you know, with the whores?"_ Kaylee's question buzzed in Jayne's mind like a bee he couldn't swat. He was in his bunk and in another foul mood.

It was an hour or so before dinnertime, and he didn't feel like hanging around with the others in the common area. He didn't feel like lifting weights, either -- anyway, he and Smith and the shepherd had all worked out together that morning. As for Smith, she was probably holed up in her cabin right now, doing whatever it was she and the doctor's sister did in there. That feng le girl was taking up way too much of Smith's time, in Jayne's opinion.

_"So why didn't ya--"_ Jayne knew the answer to the question, and it didn't please him.

He simply hadn't wanted to. Hadn't, in fact, been certain he could get it up even if he chose himself a whore.

He'd intended to, of course. Getting some trim with a willing woman was one of the chief reasons to make planetfall, in Jayne's opinion. Sometimes the only reason. But this time had been different. After he'd split off from Kaylee and Zoe, he'd moped around that go se trade town like a fool. He'd passed several sporting establishments and more than a few sporting women, some of whom weren't actually ugly, but he hadn't felt the urge. Truth was, he'd spent the whole time in port looking around, ducking into stores and stalls, hoping to run into Smith.

There it was. Might as well face it. He'd gone and gotten himself hung up on their passenger, mystery woman and all. Gorram woman was older than him, too, by more than a few years, and he didn't have the faintest clue how he could even try to get something started with a woman like her, but there it was. She made him laugh, she made him hot, she made him hard. He wanted to take her clothes off and taste her all over, real slow. He wanted her to wrap those strong arms and legs around him while he rutted her until neither of them could stand.

But it was worse than that. Sometimes, when everyone was sitting around the table in the common area, laughing and telling stories, watching someone cook or just passing the time after dinner, with the lights low and cozy, Jayne wanted to put his arm across the back of her chair, or around her waist. He wanted to touch her hair or lean over and kiss her on the cheek, the way Wash did with Zoe sometimes, for no reason at all. He wanted her to look at him the way she did -- with that straight-on gaze that accepted everything, that gaze that seemed to know a whole lot more about him than he'd told her but didn't seem to mind any of it, that gaze that seemed to find life mighty entertaining but never seemed mean -- he wanted her to look at him like that all the time. He pictured her looking at him like that while he entered her body. Surely then he could look back at her the same way.

He groaned. _Now I'm in the mood. Figures. Now that all the women back there are gone with the wake. _But as Jayne opened his pants and took himself in hand, it wasn't the illusory whores of Erunam he was thinking about.

He just wished Arbuckle's Moon were farther away.


	12. Chapter 12

River started screaming when they were ten hours from Arbuckle's -- raw, terrified screams that brought everyone rushing to her room. They found her curled up into a ball in a corner, shrieking about blood everywhere and flashing knives.

Simon dropped to his knees and put his arms around her. "River, River, it's okay, there's no blood, no knives. You're all right, everyone's all right."

Jayne bristled. She'd drawn blood all right when she'd sliced him with that knife. Not that he hadn't deserved it, but past was past. Was she gonna start carrying on about it now, in front of everyone? He glanced at Smith, who was standing next to him. He thought about saying, "Gorram girl's crazy, pay her no mind," but decided not to. Smith liked River, and she might take it poorly. Besides, Jayne had the uneasy feeling that however crazy River was, something all too real could be upsetting her now. From the looks Mal and Zoe were exchanging, they had the same worry.

Whatever it was, it was bad. Simon, Kaylee, Shepherd Book, Mal, even Smith tried to calm the frantic girl, but she grew more and more agitated. "Can't think," she cried again and again, pounding at her forehead with her fists. "Too much agony, too many screams." Finally Simon injected her with a smoother. As River capitulated to sleep she seized Mal's hand. "Turn back," she whispered, and then her eyes closed.

Everyone but Simon left River's room to huddle in the corridor. Mal said, "Wash, why don't you go on up to the bridge and raise Arbuckle's. Let 'em know we're comin' in." He paused. "See if there's any . . . news."

Wash nodded. Zoe left with him.

"Everybody else," Mal said, "might as well get back to whatever you were doin'. The doc's gonna take care of his sister, she'll be fine. Let's leave 'em alone."

Jayne met Smith's eyes and jerked his head toward the hold. She nodded and followed him. So did Kaylee and Book.

When they reached the hold, Jayne didn't speak a word, just unfastened a bolt lock, releasing the hoop, which swung down on its chain. Turning, he saw that Book had already retrieved the ball from its place under Jayne's weight rack. Book tossed it to Jayne.

"Two on two?" the merc asked the shepherd.

Book nodded. "Kaylee, would you do me the honor of teaming with me?"

"Sure thing, shepherd."

Jayne lobbed the ball to Smith. She caught it on the fly and made a passable run up court. Didn't make a hoop, but she was a lot better than she'd been the first time they'd played. Scoring didn't matter anyway, not today. Jayne cut over to block Book and tried in vain to swat the ball out of the holy man's hands. He knew they weren't really playing for points. They were playing to shut out the memory of River's screams, and the fear of what they might portend.

Book and Kaylee were up three points on Jayne and Smith, but Jayne didn't mind because it was fun getting sweaty with Smith, even if it was only a game of hoopball. Then Mal's voice came over the comm, calling them all to the common area.

The players arrived to find Simon and Inara just sitting down. Zoe and Mal stood in the bridge hatchway, looking grave but not panicky.

"Thought you all should know what's goin' on," Mal began. "Fact is, we don't know exactly what's goin' on. Wash can't raise any kind of signal from Arbuckle's Moon. Nothing. Place has fallen completely silent."

Kaylee said, "I could check the equipment, cap'n."

"You do that," Mal replied, "but I'm thinkin' you'll find it's just fine."

Jayne remembered stories he'd heard about communications breakdowns. "What about some kind o' freak weather? 'Lectron storm, sunspots, somethin' like that?"

Mal said, "That's possible. Or maybe some other kind of natural disaster struck the place. There ain't but half a dozen towns. Maybe they all got hit with a quake or something."

"Perhaps there's a medical crisis," Simon speculated. "Something fast-moving. No," he admitted, "that wouldn't prevent _everyone_ from responding to a wave, or getting a distress message out."

"Sounds like the folk there could be in need of help," Shepherd Book said.

"Or past it," Jayne said. He spoke urgently to the captain: "Look here, Mal, let's give Arbuckle's the go-by. Just change course and take that cargo somewhere else." He glanced at his teammate. "Sorry, Miss Smith, I know you're bound for Arbuckle's, but--"

The shepherd and the doctor spoke up, but Mal spoke over them both. "I'm minded to go in and take a look, see what's what," he said. "But we'll go in quiet, and we'll go in careful. I just wanted everyone to know. If Wash learns any more, you'll know that, too."

Jayne knew there was no point in arguing with Mal once he'd made up his mind, no matter how certain Jayne was that they were headed into something bad -- or how frightened he had suddenly become. "Just remember," the merc reminded everyone, with a nod toward the infirmary, "what she said."

From the looks on their faces he knew they were all remembering River's faint, desperate whisper: "Turn back."


	13. Chapter 13

"Tai kong suo you do xing-qiu sai-jin wo de pigu," Mal breathed over Wash's left shoulder as _Serenity_ passed over the smoking ruins of the sixth and last town on Arbuckle's Moon. Every town, every last settlement and farmstead they'd seen, was the same: smashed, scorched, and silent.

"Whatever it was," Zoe said over her husband's other shoulder, "it hit 'em hard and fast, so fast that not one call got out."

"I been tellin' ya," Jayne cried from the hatchway, "it's Reavers, gorram it! You all know I'm right. We gotta get outta here, now! Okay, you wanted to make sure they was all dead, now you've seen it. Can we ruttin' go!"

Mal straightened. "That we ruttin' can, Jayne. Wash, get us out of here. Ain't no point in landin', nobody's left we could do anythin' for."

"'Out of here,'" Wash repeated. "I'm all for that, Mal, but it's not too specific. Give me some coordinates, or a destination."

Mal thought for a minute. "What's the closest mid-size Rim world we can make with our current fuel stores, staying out of Alliance patrol patterns?"

Wash worked the nav computers for a few minutes. Jayne was practically dancing with impatience. "Gorram Reavers've been known to come back, y'know," he muttered.

"Got it," Wash declared. "How does New Iberia sound?"

"That'll do," said Mal. "Jayne, rustle up the others and get 'em together for a conference. Inara and Miss Smith, too."

A few minutes later the ship's complement was again sitting around the table in the conference room. Even River was there, groggy with sedatives but awake, leaning against Simon's shoulder and blinking. He'd been unwilling to leave her alone once she woke, he explained, and no one, not even Jayne, minded that she was there.

"So that's the situation," Mal finished. "We get as far from here as we can, as fast as we can. When we're clear we'll put out a general wave about what happened on Arbuckle's. Might help the next sodding place in their path."

"We're heading for New Iberia," Zoe put in. "It's a Rim world, shouldn't be much Alliance presence, if any. We can get fuel cells and supplies there. We can probably also unload our cargo there, and take on a new one. Or line up a job."

"Miss Smith," the captain said, turning to the sole passenger, "the Reavers forced a change in your plans, too. When we get to New Iberia, I'll do what I can to help you make new arrangements. That's the best I can do. Will it satisfy you?"

"Of course, Captain Reynolds," she said slowly. "I'm still a little dazed. Reavers. . . . I hadn't realized. . . ."

"Many folk haven't," said Zoe.

The passenger was clearly at a loss. "I'll have to come up with a plan, figure out where to go. . . . Captain Reynolds, thanks for your frankness. I think I'll go think things over now." She left the common area without another look at Jayne or anyone else.

An hour later Jayne's nerves were still vibrating like harpstrings. Reavers. His worst nightmare. You could plainly see from the raw wreckage on that gorram moon that _Serenity_'d come way too close to spinning into atmo while those monsters were still having their way with the place. It didn't help that tonight was Jayne's turn in the kitchen again. His hands shook a little as he unwrapped the meal packs.

He wondered if Smith would show up for the meal. She'd seemed pretty shaken by the Reaver attack, as was only natural. He realized that he had no idea why she'd been going to Arbuckle's Moon. Hell, maybe she had friends there. Family, even. Okay, that last was unlikely. But no doubt it had set her back on her heels some to have her plan blown sky-high. If she didn't come to dinner, he could always take her meal to her cabin, offer her a shoulder to cry on. . . .

She came to dinner. He sat next to her; he'd been doing that often enough lately that he reckoned no one would think anything of it. She was quieter than usual. Well, they all were. Jayne pondered various conversational openings, looking for a way to get Smith talking. In the end, though, it was Kaylee who did it.

"Those poor people," the mechanic said suddenly, and her eyes filled with tears. Simon squeezed her hand, and she squeezed back. Then she looked at the silent passenger. "Miss Smith," she said, "I'm sorry I never asked. Did you have . . . family there? Or friends?"

They were all looking at her now. "Not exactly," she said. "I had had one conversation with someone there -- a friend of a friend of a friend. He and his family lived on a ranch outside Sunset. There was a little house on his property that happened to be vacant. I was going to rent it." She bit her lip in distress. "Now I suppose I'll have to get word to my friend's friend about what happened. . . ."

Jayne couldn't take it any longer. His curiosity about Smith had reached the breaking point. "Rent a house on a ranch on Arbuckle's Moon?" he burst out. "Why in hell would someone like _you_ want to live _there_? What were you really goin' to Arbuckle's for, anyways?"

Jayne expected Mal to snap at him for badgering the passenger, but he didn't care. He needed to know more -- to know anything -- about this woman who had gotten so far under his skin. Mal, however, said nothing, just went on eating, letting Miss Smith answer or not as she saw fit.

She said nothing for a moment, looking as if making a decision, or nerving herself to act on one already made. Then she glanced around the table and asked, "Can you keep a secret? All of you? Because I can, and will."

"What do you mean, Miss Smith?" Shepherd Book asked.

"I've gathered that you are all very private people. The kind of people who don't like a lot of attention drawn to them, especially--" she hesitated "--official attention. So I want you all to know that after I leave this ship, I won't say anything to anyone about any of you. No names." She smiled at River. "Nothing. Ever. You'll just have to take my word for it, but if you trust me, I'll trust you. I'll tell you something that I've kept secret for five years."

"Secrets are good," Jayne said earnestly. "Uh, sharin' 'em's good, I mean." Was he going to find out at last who and what Smith really was?

"Sounds fair," Mal said, echoing words spoken at his first meeting with Miss Smith. "Go right ahead." He caught Zoe's eye. _Is Smith gonna tell us about that gorram "thing"? _

"I told you before that I'm a storyteller," Smith said. "What I really am is a writer. Five years ago I published a book. I had a feeling that it might stir up trouble, for me and for people I talked to while I was writing it, so I set things up so that it was published anonymously--"

"Lao tian," said Zoe, shaking her head in disbelief, "you're Citizen S."

"Yes."

Wash gave a low whistle. Simon said in a shocked voice, "_Sky on Fire_? You really wrote it?"

"Yes."

War story, love story, family saga, excoriating political critique -- _Sky on Fire_ had become a surprise bestseller. A huge bestseller, despite unrelenting criticism from all of the conglomerate news outlets. Everyone had read the book, or at least talked about it. Kaylee had cried over it. Simon had been upbraided by his father for reading it; the tale of a privileged Core aristocrat who renounced everything to fight on the side of the Independents had generated more heat at the Tams' dinner parties than just about any other topic Simon could remember. Mal had read it in the bitter year after Serenity Valley, in a dog-eared copy Zoe had pressed on him. Commentators and pundits and barstool know-it-alls had speculated endlessly about the author's identity. Now the crew of _Serenity_ knew. Everybody tried to talk at once.

"It's my favorite book!" Kaylee said excitedly. "I cried and cried at the ending, the way they were separated like that, and neither of them knew--"

"It was the politics," Wash interrupted, shaking his head. "It's like you were there, at all those secret Alliance meetings."

Inara placed her hand briefly on Smith's. "The Guild appreciates the way you presented us."

"I can't say the same about the Church," Book said ruefully, "but I acknowledge your gifts as a storyteller."

"Ain't this excitin'!" Kaylee bubbled. She turned to Jayne. "What was your favorite part? The fightin' or the lovin'?"

Jayne could've said "The fightin'," and left it at that, but Smith was looking at him, and for some idiot reason he had to go and tell the truth. "Never read it," he admitted. "Saw the Blue Sun holovid, though."

Smith let loose a streak of English and Mandarin vituperation that made everyone, including Jayne, blench. "Sorry," she said, sheepish. "But those carrion-eating hun dan broke our contract every which way, _and_ they owe me royalties."

_That book must've made her a fortune,_ Jayne thought. He could ponder that later, though. Right now he wanted to distract her from the fact that he was apparently the only person in the 'verse who hadn't read her damn book. "So . . . what about Arbuckle's Moon?"

"Two things." Smith heaved a sigh. "First, I had reason to believe that the central government was close to finding out who Citizen S is, and I had the feeling that might not be good for me. So I wanted to be out of the way for a while. And second, I need to spend some time outside the Core, see what life is like in the black and on the Rim."

"Why?" Jayne asked.

"For the book I'm writing now."

Kaylee squealed. "A sequel? Do they get back together? No, wait, don't tell me, I don't wanna know until I can read the whole thing. Is it almost done?"

"Yes, it's a sequel, and no, it isn't almost done. It's barely started. I was going to write it in that little house on Arbuckle's Moon. But I'll find another place to work, and when I'm finished, you can be the second person to read it."

Kaylee's face fell. "Second?"

"River asked first," Miss Smith said gently. "That first night at dinner."

"Aw, that's okay then," Kaylee said, her good humor restored. "Shiny."

And just then the proximity alert sounded.

Jayne went numb. He knew what it had to be. Mal, Wash, and Zoe were already halfway up the stairs, headed for the bridge. He pounded up after them. "Everyone else, stay put," Mal hollered. Jayne caught a glimpse of Smith's white face upturned among the others. Then he barreled down the corridor and onto the bridge.

Shit, he thought. We are humped. 

The ship was big, dark, and beat-up looking. It was headed straight toward them, bristling with weapons.

"If they were goin' to blow us up, they'd've done it by now," Mal said rapidly. "They'll try to board. Probably grapple us and try to burn through the bay door. Wash, do what you can to shut them out. Then you and Zoe get to the weapons locker. You two take the port catwalk over the hold. You know what to do. Jayne, you're with me."

The two men ran back to the common area. Those they'd left were standing in a knot. The shepherd had a protective arm around Inara, who was holding one of River's hands. Simon held the other. Smith was hugging Kaylee. Jayne wanted to hold them both, tell them it would be all right, but he knew it wouldn't. Right now he needed Vera.

"It's Reavers," Mal said bluntly. "It's bad. _Serenity_ can't outrun them, and she ain't armed, except with hand weapons. They'll try to take us. All of you, get to shuttle two. Stick together. Jayne and I will hold the catwalk on that side of the hold as long as we can."

"Can we get suits on and vent the atmo when they come in?" Book asked.

"Won't vent," Mal said. "They'll have their ship airlocked to us. Doctor?"

Simon said, "What do I do?"

"Take your medical bag into the shuttle. Won't do you any good to take off, they'll chase you down easy. But you can hold out there longer than anywhere else." Mal looked the young man straight in the eyes. "Listen to me: _No one is to be taken alive._ Do you understand?"

"I--I understand. You can count on me."

"Not until the last minute. But don't fail."

Simon nodded. His sister drew close to him and said, "We trust you, Simon."

Even in the panic and urgency of the moment, Jayne noticed that she wasn't screaming. She looked scared as hell, but--

"Hey, you," he said to her, "that's right, look at me. Can you really do -- what you said?"

She shook her head agitatedly, hiding behind that curtain of dark hair. "Don't know! So many--not sure -- never tried!"

"Well, try, gorramit," he spat out, "do whatever you can."

Mal was yelling, "All of you, get to the shuttle!" He stared at Inara, but there wasn't time to say anything. Simon started pulling River and Kaylee toward the shuttle, and with one last look at Mal, Inara followed.

_Serenity_ juddered as the Reaver vessel's grapples crashed against her hull. "Let's go, Jayne, get your guns!" Mal commanded.

Book pulled a handgun from beneath his shirt. "I'll stay outside the shuttle, captain, and try to hold the access corridor."

Mal nodded approval. "You do that, holy man," Mal said.

"And I," Smith said, "will help him."

Mal looked at her. "Can you use that gun of yours I got in my safe?"

Jayne's eyes widened.

"I can," she said.

"No time to get it now," Mal said. "Jayne?"

"I'll get her gunned up," he said, hating the captain for putting Smith into the fight, loving her for wanting to be in it.

"Do that, then take your posts," Mal ordered. He locked eyes with Jayne for an instant. "See ya on the catwalk." Without waiting for the merc's reply, Mal turned and ran toward the hold.

Jayne tore through the common area and down to his bunk, Smith right behind him. Ripping aside the curtain above his bed, he pulled out four guns and laid them before Smith. "All loaded," he said. "You know how to use 'em?"

She shoved two guns into the waist of her trousers and picked up the other two. Jayne took that for a yes.

In twelve seconds flat he'd fitted himself with every other gun in his arsenal. Last of all he cradled Vera in his arms. "Let's go," he said.

He led her up to the corridor from which a hatchway opened into shuttle two. Book was already stationed at one end, guarding the passage from the bridge. Jayne positioned Smith at the other end, to guard the catwalk that led up from the common area.

"Your spot's behind here," he said, pointing to a structural support. "Make every shot count."

"I'll do my best," Smith said, and if her voice shook a little, Jayne was willing to forgive it. Her eyes were steady.

"Remember what the captain said," he told her, the foretaste of terror and death roiling in him like bile. "Save one round. Don't let them take you."

She nodded.

Time for him to be at his post. He didn't know how to say goodbye. "Sorry you never got to finish your new book," was all he could think of.

To his astonishment she smiled at him. "The story isn't over yet." She grabbed his shirtfront, pulled him close, and kissed him hard on the mouth. Then she released him with a little shove. "Fight well, Mr. Cobb."

"Call me Jayne," he blurted, and left at a run.


	14. Chapter 14

They burst through the red-hot ruin of the bay door like a gibbering wave. The metal seared their skin and they howled with delirious joy. Jayne felt his own battle rage filling him, driving out the panic, but it didn't make him a berserker, it just made him cold.

Breaking cover for a millisecond at a time, he fired shot after shot after shot into the writhing mass, deafened by the crash of the Reavers firing back, by bullets whining off _Serenity_. He was vaguely aware of Mal and Wash and Zoe elsewhere on the catwalk, firing down just like he was. Every shot from above killed a Reaver, but they kept coming, inevitable as the tide. Jayne's vision had become a narrow tunnel that kept picking out details he wanted to burn from his brain: grinning mouths with nails through their tongues; flesh scarred and artfully flayed to reveal cheekbones and browbones beneath the painted skin; a child's mummified hand worn like a talisman around a pockmarked neck; a swirling cape made of dead faces, their empty eyes and mouths stretched wide in horror. And always knives flashing, and teeth gnashing, and no matter how many they killed, more came.

Jayne's first shots had taken down Reavers near the entrance to the hold. Others had trampled over those bodies and advanced. They'd reached the stairway to the catwalk and were swarming up it. Jayne retreated step by step, firing as fast as he could, throwing each gun aside as it emptied. He'd used up most of his armament. Vera alone had killed probably twenty of them. She was slung over one shoulder, with one shell left. His. He'd lean over her and pull the trigger and blow his head off.

But he'd take a few more of them, first. Keep them from reaching the others, reaching Smith, for as long as he could. They were still howling, but the gunfire had died down. The Reavers were no longer firing. Probably not because they were out of ammo, like he was. They didn't want to kill him, now. They wanted to play. It was knifework, him and them. They rushed him, pushed him back along the catwalk, slicing and jabbing, snapping at him with jaws full of sharpened teeth. Jayne felt fiery licks of pain all over. He wasn't mortally hurt, not yet, but this couldn't go on much longer. They'd overwhelm him, and then the real horror would start. Wash, and Zoe, and Mal -- they must be going down like this, too, each losing his or her own vile little war. Jayne drove the blade in his left hand deep into something that keened, and with the knife in his right he severed a long-nailed filthy hand that groped for his face. There was blood in his eyes. He sank to his knees and put a finger on Vera's trigger.

With a bubbling scream the Reaver nearest Jayne dropped to the floor, convulsing. Blood gushed from his eyes and mouth. The others looked at the fallen one for just a second, not much of a lull, but it was enough. Jayne swung Vera around and fired her pointblank into the knot of Reavers almost on top of him. She stopped them -- and left him without his last bullet. He grinned. He'd use a blade. But it seemed it hadn't come to that just yet.

Roaring, swinging Vera like a club, Jayne bashed his way back to the top of the stairs. Two of the Reavers he knocked aside bled from the eyes as they fell. The others seemed unhurt but confused, twitching and slapping at themselves, or just moving as slowly as if in quicksand. Jayne mowed them down, snatching up own their guns to finish them. Dimly he heard Mal calling, "Zoe!"

The merc slashed the throat of the last Reaver standing on his end of the catwalk and looked dazedly around. Across the hold, Zoe drove a rifle butt into the face of the lone Reaver still on that walk, sending him pinwheeling over the rail. Wash crouched behind a barricade of Reaver corpses, picking off those below who were still standing. No more were coming through the ravaged door.

"Zoe!" the captain yelled again. "You okay?"

"Yes, sir!"

"Hold on here! Jayne, the shuttle!"

Jayne was already on his way. He knew that Reavers had gotten past him during that desperate fight on the catwalk. He didn't know how many. As he leaped up the steps to the shuttle access corridor he heard the shepherd cry out ahead of him: "No, no, don't--"

With Mal right behind him, Jayne jumped into the corridor. "Smith!" he screamed, but she didn't hear him. A second later he fired one shot from the Reaver gun he held.

And then everything was quiet, and the fight was over. Mal started yelling for Simon.

Jayne kicked the last of the Reavers' bodies off of her just as the doctor appeared in the shuttle's hatchway, medkit in hand.

"What happened to her?" Simon demanded as he knelt beside Smith, his fingers moving quickly and capably over her head and body. "Did they--"

"Jayne shot her," Mal said. "You okay? Your sister? The others?" His questions answered themselves: River and Kaylee appeared in the hatchway, white-faced and shaking but, so far as Mal could see, unbloodied. Inara stood behind them, an arm around each. Mal's eyes met the companion's for an instant and he looked away, reassured. His womenfolk were okay. All but one of 'em.

Simon stared up at Jayne. "_You_ shot her? You _shot_ her?" His voice rose. "You big dumb ape, the only thing you're _good_ for is shooting, can't you even aim straight?"

"Just this one gorram time, Doc," Jayne snarled, "save the unsults for later and _get to your ruttin' doctorin'!"_

"Let's shift her to the infirmary," Shepherd Book said as he stepped forward to help Simon work a sheet under Smith's body.

Mal glanced again at Inara and the girls. "Ladies, go with them," he said. "Jayne and me'll finish checking the ship with Zoe and Wash. We'll let you know soon as we're sure it's clear. Kaylee, mei mei, I'm gonna need you soon to help us fix the the cargo door and check for booby traps. You gonna be ready?"

The young mechanic rubbed her palms across her wet cheeks and then stood up straight. "I'll be ready, Cap'n."

Mal was relieved to see her smile, tremulous though it was. "That's my girl. Now let's get goin'."

"Captain!" the doctor called. He and Book were making their way down the stairs to the infirmary, carrying Smith. "You and . . . and Jayne should come down, too. I need to check you both over."

Mal and Jayne looked at each other. Both were bruised, cut, bitten, and covered with blood, some of it theirs. "Nothin' serious, Doc," Mal said. "We got things to do right now."

"'S'right." Jayne glared at Simon. "_We_ ain't the ones needs doctorin'." He remembered the twitching, hemorrhaging Reavers and looked at River. She looked back at him with those unfathomable dark eyes. "You done good," he said simply, and she nodded as if satisfied.

"Can we all get movin' now?" Mal demanded. "Zoe, Wash, you take the bridge and quarters. Jayne, you're with me in the engine room and hold."

The last glimpse Jayne had of her, she was still unconscious and bleeding all over the doctor's nice clean sheet. "That's a good sign, ain't it, Mal?" he mumbled as the two men began working their way down the corridor to the engine room, automatically covering each other and checking every hidey-hole.

"Huh?"

"All that blood. Means I didn't kill her. Heart's still goin'."

"Wo de ma, Jayne, we gotta do this right this minute?"

Jayne swung around a corner into the engine room, fanned across it with Vera at the ready. The two Reavers there were already dead, though he and Mal shot each corpse once more in the head just to make sure. Didn't want no surprises. Jayne expected that in a few minutes he'd be hauling their stinking monster carcasses to an airlock. He wasn't looking forward none to that. "'Preciate it," he said.

"Well, then," the captain said as he dropped through a hatch in the floor and fell into a crouch in the corridor below, "you got a good clean shot on her, took her down easy an' no lastin' harm. That good enough for you?"

"Uhhh. . . ."

"Looks clear," Mal said. He turned to his merc, who'd just jumped down to join him. "See here, Jayne, you ain't suffering under any doubt that you did the right thing, are you? 'Cause you did the right thing. Everybody knows that."

He cocked an eye at Jayne. The merc was scowling and working his lips like he wanted to say something but couldn't figure out how. Mal was all too familiar with that expression. "Spit it out, Jayne."

"That gorram doctor--" Jayne grumbled. "He's gonna tell her. . . ."

Mal tried not to laugh. Then he tried not to sigh. The adrenaline of battle was draining out of his system, the euphoria of survival was giving way to aching exhaustion, and here was his muscle man with a case of the sulks. This was more of that new and slightly disturbing side of Jayne, worrying about what someone thought of him. He was still Jayne, though--wouldn't risk looking soft by explaining himself. _That'd be my job, _Mal supposed. "I'll make certain sure Smith knows the way of it," he promised the big man, and Jayne's expression brightened.

"Let's go do the hold, Mal. Hey, might be one or two of 'em left alive to kill, whaddaya think?"

This time Mal did sigh.


	15. Chapter 15

"She's got some cuts and bruises," Simon said as he tucked the blanket around the unconscious Smith. "A couple of places where they--bit her. But those are minor. The only serious injury is the one to her leg. From Jayne." The way he said the name, it sounded like a curse.

Shepherd Book looked up from where he was sterilizing and stowing the instruments Simon had used to remove the bullet from Smith's thigh and suture the wound. "Serious?"

"Not life-threatening, no. By great good luck, he managed to miss bones and major blood vessels. It'll hurt, but it'll heal. She should be fine."

"Wasn't luck," the shepherd said, just as River, who was lying on the other hospital cot, awake but quiet, whispered, "Wasn't luck." Neither of the men heard River's whisper. She closed her eyes, almost content; things were moving back toward balance.

Simon looked at Book in confusion. "What do you mean, it wasn't luck? She's lucky to be alive."

"That she is, son, but not in the way you mean." Book stepped closer to the doctor and laid a hand on the younger man's shoulder. "Jayne didn't shoot Smith by accident. He shot her to keep her from taking her own life."

The blood drained from Simon's face. Shepherd Book continued, "I saw the whole thing. She was raising the gun to her head when Jayne and the Captain got there. She must've been in shock--didn't know the fight was over. You see, one of the Reavers she'd killed was still . . . moving, clutching at her. I expect she didn't see the Captain and Jayne clearly. Or hear us when we called out to her to stop. She had the barrel in her mouth when Jayne shot her." Book paused for a moment, then added gently, "He is a very good shot."

Simon said slowly, "So she was. . . ."

"Going to do what she had to do if things came to the worst, yes." Book's face and voice were infinitely sad as he added quietly, "The same thing any of us would do, or do for someone else when all hope was gone." Simon glanced over at River and then looked back at Book, who nodded in understanding. Book said, "Trouble is, Smith got confused, didn't realize we'd beaten them off."

"And Jayne saved her."

"Yes."

Simon's shoulders slumped. "I suppose you think I owe him an apology."

"What do _you_ think?"

"It's just--how was I to know? He's such a brute, and he complained so much when the captain took her on, I'd have thought he'd jump at the chance to be rid of her."

"Not too observant, are you, doctor?"

"What do you mean?"

"Jayne and our Miss Smith, they're, well, I think you could say they're friends. I believe he . . . admires her, in his way."

"Maybe you're right. They do seem to get along. She's always been very civil to him. Of course, he hasn't been--"

"As hateful to her as he's been toward you and your sister?" Book suggested.

"Well, yes."

"And doesn't that seem to have changed a little lately?"

"What do you--?" Meeting the shepherd's grave but friendly eyes, Simon drew a forearm across his forehead and sighed. "Let's see. I suppose Jayne hasn't actually threatened to kill either of us for a couple of weeks. And I have to admit he's passed up a couple of opportunities to say something mean to River. So . . . you think he's behaving better because of--friendship?" Simon gestured toward Smith's unconsious form.

Book shrugged. "Perhaps."

"Why would she _want_ to be his friend?" Simon burst out. He looked curiously at the shepherd. "Why do you, for that matter? No, wait, I know that one." He smiled wryly. "Friendship is right, enmity is wrong."

"That's not quite how I see it. I'm capable of righteous enmity, as you've seen. But friendship is better than . . . its absence."

Simon shook his head. "But how can you be friends with someone who's--what Jayne is?"

"I try to appreciate what is good in him," Book said, closing the med locker and moving toward the door, "and to forgive what isn't." As the shepherd left the infirmary he smiled at Simon and said, "Same as I do with everyone."


	16. Chapter 16

Jayne worked with Mal and Zoe and Wash to clear the Reavers' corpses out of _Serenity_ and dump them into their ship's airlock. The four were quiet, sickened by having to touch the dead. Not one of them had the slightest desire to explore the Reaver ship. Jayne was quite certain that no amount of plunder would be worth what he feared to find in its dark recesses.

Then, under Kaylee's direction, they labored to make _Serenity_ ready to detach from the Reaver hulk so they could get the hell out of there before the rest showed up -- because sure as hell just one Reaver ship hadn't taken down Arbuckle's Moon. They threw six layers of carbon-fiber sheeting over the ruined door and sealed it tight enough to pass a vacuum test. It wasn't pretty, but it was spaceworthy, though nothing would move in or out of the ship through the hold until they made planetfall somewhere where they could replace the door. And until then they'd be traveling at half-speed.

Mal led Kaylee and Wash off to check for and disarm explosives any that the Reavers might've attached to _Serenity._ Jayne headed for the infirmary.

Inara was sitting with River on the daybed where the doctor's sister spent much of her time. The companion was brushing the crazy girl's hair. They turned when he came up, and Jayne saw the dismay on both their faces. "Not here to bother you," he growled.

"It's not that," Inara said, her voice soft and musical as always. "It's just--oh, Jayne, you look terrible. Are you all right?"

Jayne realized that he was still bloody and torn up from the fight. The blood was dry now, and some engine grease had been added to it. The stink of Reavers and sweat and guns hung around him. "I'm fine." He gestured awkwardly at the infirmary window; through it he saw Smith lying, eyes closed, while the doc fussed with some piece of equipment or other. "Just wanted to check up on. . . ." His voice trailed away.

Inara said, "That's a good idea." River stared at him, owl-like, before bowing her head so that the brushing could continue.

It was the smell that alerted Simon. He whirled to find the mercenary standing just a couple of feet from him. Amazing that a man that big moved so quietly, even when there was no need. Simon squared his shoulders. "Jayne, I--"

"How is she?"

"Just what I was goin' to ask." Mal strode into the infirmary, Book behind him. "We're on our way to get the mess room cleaned up, but I wanted to see how Smith's doin'. What can you tell me, Doc?"

"She's going to be fine," Simon said, startled for a moment to see River creeping into the room. She stood by the door, solemn-faced but quiet. Simon decided not to chase her out as long as she behaved herself. She liked Smith, too.

"The leg wound is going to heal without any complications," Simon continued, addressing both the captain and Jayne, who was gazing fixedly at Smith. "You, ah, you did a good job there, Jayne."

The big man looked at Simon, surprised.

"Shepherd Book," Simon said, "told me how it was. Sorry for what I said back there."

Jayne grinned and sloshed Simon on the shoulder. Simon was fairly certain that it was a non-hostile gesture, maybe even a playful one. _Sure plays rough_, he thought, working the shoulder.

"Aw, don't worry 'bout it none," Jayne said. "We all's said things we oughtn't from time to time. So she's gonna be all right?"

"Just fine."

"Not that easy," said a small soft voice. Everyone looked at River. Jayne's hands balled into fists.

"What do you mean, River?" Simon tried to sound soothing, but his voice was tense with worry for his sister. "Of course she's going to be fine. I fixed her leg."

"She's hurt on the inside," River said, mournfully.

Simon scrambled to check a monitor. "There's no fever, no internal bleeding, pulse is normal." He looked at River in perplexed admonition. "Don't go upsetting people, River." He glanced at Jayne. "She'll be all right, truly."

"Legs for walking, what about talking?" River intoned in that witchy singsong of hers. "Dark and deep, poisoned sleep. Only breaking, never making." Then her voice became once again that of a teenage girl, if a rather morbid one, when she said, "She's hurt in her mind." She touched her head. "Just a little bruised. Bent. Not broken like I am."

Jayne crossed the room in two swift steps and, before Simon or anyone else could intervene, crouched in front of River and looked her in the eyes. "Now you listen to me," he said.

"Get away--" Simon began, but Book laid a hand on his arm, and the captain raised one of his hands to stop the doctor. "Ain't done anythin' harmful yet," Mal declared. "Let him have his say. We're all listenin'," he added for Jayne's benefit.

The mercenary didn't seem to have heard him. He was looking intently at River, who was staring back, wary but without panic.

"I got somethin' to say to you 'bout being broken," Jayne said to River. "I ain't gonna try to tell you y'ain't broken in the head, 'cause you for sure got messed up good an' crazy. But you oughtta remember that when broken things get mended, they ain't just okay again, they're better'n before. Like china--you know, dishes an' such. The piece that gets broken an' fixed is the strongest one of all."

River was silent for a moment, as if weighing not just his words but his purpose, then she broke into one of her rare, dazzling smiles. "Thank you, Jayne."

Jayne stood and said gruffly, "I ain't just talkin' to make you feel better, girlie. Whyn't you go use that giant genius brain o' yours an' look it up? You'll find out I'm tellin' truth."

"I will. I'll look it up." River danced out of the infirmary. She called back over her shoulder, "There's a sixty-nine point eight eight nine chance that everything will turn out right, you know." She was gone.

Jayne looked around. The rest of them were staring at him, some of them open-mouthed. "What?" He scowled. "Just wanted her to clear out, is all."

Inara smiled, Mal grinned, and Book chuckled. Even Simon seemed amused. Jayne shrugged. "Ah, hell, ain't no big secret. Back home, my ma had one fine thing. One. A teapot. Course I had to be the one to bust it." He hoped his voice didn't sound at all sad or regretful like he felt sometimes when he thought about things like that.

The others were silent for a moment. Then Simon said, not sarcastic like the doctor usually spoke to him, "And who was the one to fix it, Jayne?"

Jayne felt the crusted blood on his face crack when he answered. "That was me, too. So, doc, whaddaya think about what she said? Think Smith's gonna be . . . right, when she wakes up?" They were all silent again, and Jayne knew that this time they were thinking about that poor ruined bastard of a settler they'd found on the Reaver-gutted wreck.

"I, I hope so," the doctor said worriedly. "She wasn't exposed to--not over a period of time like. . . "

"We know," Mal said. "But she had a real rough coupla minutes, and she had the taste of death in her mouth, and maybe that did some damage. We'll have to wait and see. Thing is, I'm startin' to have some confidence in that sister of yours and her . . . insights. I know you'll do your best." With a nod he headed out of the infirmary, Book behind him.

"Let's go make that mess fit to eat in," Mal said to the shepherd. "Or at least as fit as it ever was." But the captain was thinking, _Seventy percent chance that _what_ is gonna turn out right?_

"Perhaps River would welcome some help, or some company," Inara said, and Simon looked at her gratefully as she glided out of the infirmary. The doctor and the mercenary were alone. Neither could find anything to say.

Simon finally broke the silence. Looking away from Jayne, he asked, "Do you want to help me do it?"

Jayne nodded, then realized that the doctor couldn't see him. He cleared his throat. "Right."

Simon got the restraining straps from under the bed and handed half of them to Jayne. He started to speak, but when he saw Jayne lift one of Smith's pallid hands he decided he didn't have to say "Try to be gentle."


	17. Chapter 17

"She's exactly the same as when I brought her in here," Simon told them three days later in the infirmary. "Except that the gunshot wound is getting better. But she hasn't woken up, not even for a second."

Mal frowned. "I don't understand, doc. You're saying she's just . . . asleep?"

"That's right. She's not in a coma. She's just sound asleep, with periodic brain activity as though she's dreaming, everything pointing to normal sleep--except that she's been that way for three straight days, and she shows no sign of waking up."

"Well, wake her up, then," Jayne said roughly. "Apply the gorram cortical stimulators."

Simon glanced at him; he hadn't forgotten arduous process of preparing Jayne for the caper in that hospital on Ariel -- nor had he forgotten what else had happened there. "I would, if I had them. I've tried everything I can do here, even injected her with stimulants. Strong ones. Nothing works. The upshot," the doctor concluded wearily, "is that I don't know why she's still asleep. Or how to wake her up. It doesn't make any sense."

River chanted, "Dark and deep, poisoned sleep."

Her brother sighed. "River, please, you need to get out of here now. I'm going to . . . to take another blood test, or something. Could you go to your room, or to the kitchen?"

The girl left the infirmary, muttering her doggerel under her breath. In the doorway she turned back and looked at them all. "Like the fairy tale," she said, and went away.

Mal shook his head. "What the hell was that all about?"

"I'm not sure," Simon said slowly, staring after his sister.

Jayne said nothing. He was trying to remember something from a long time ago.

"You run your tests, doc," the captain said. "Keep me posted. Jayne, you come along with me, help me and Zoe make some plans."

Jayne turned dully away from the sleeping Smith and followed Mal to the bridge, wishing he knew what it was that he was trying to remember.

Twenty minutes later he was half-listening to Mal and Zoe debating how best they could acquire a new cargo door in New Iberia when Mal's communicator sounded: "Captain, this is Simon. Can you come down here right away?" The doctor sounded excited. Jayne was out the hatchway before Mal.

Jayne's heart pounded as he ran toward the infirmary. It felt like a blow when he saw Smith lying there as still as ever. There'd been no change. But Simon was pacing. He started talking as soon as he saw them.

"'Poisoned sleep,'" he said, quoting River. "I think she was drugged."

"With what?" demanded Jayne.

"I don't know yet. My blood work has already ruled out the common, familiar possibilities. I'll have to run more tests, maybe a lot of them. . . . Right now I can only tell you that it was something very subtle, or something completely unknown."

"Well, then," Mal said, "what makes you think--"

"That she was drugged? Or poisoned?" Simon smiled at River, who had quietly returned to the room. "My sister gave me the clue when she said 'like the fairy tale.' Remember the story of the poisoned thorn?"

It all came back to Jayne in his mother's voice, the voice that used to read old stories to him and his brother when they were little kids. The poisoned thorn, and the princess who fell into a long, long sleep.

"So I took a closer look," Simon was saying, "and I found this." He lifted the sheet that covered Smith's legs. There was a weave on her right thigh where Jayne had shot her, but Simon was pointing to her left thigh. "It's hard to see--" Simon began. Jayne shouldered past Mal to get a look. Mal didn't say anything.

"Yeah, I see it," Jayne said. It was a small hole, almost a pinprick, and it was black. He knew what must've happened. He felt sick, thinking about one of those things clawing her, knowing that was only the beginning of what they would've done.

Simon went on, "Shepherd Book told me that one of the Reavers was, er, clutching at her, even after she'd killed him. It. I think it must have been armed for injection, maybe with needles sewn into its skin or something like that."

"But why drug us?" Zoe asked.

Mal said, "Reavers don't always kill right away. They like their sport. Maybe they've taken to using drugs to make it even worse for their captives. The women, at least."

Jayne growled. Mal said, "Yeah. But now that we know, Simon'll set her right. Ain't that so, doc?"

"I hope so. I'll do my best. I have no idea what they used." As the doctor continued talking to Book and Mal, Jayne drifted to the periphery. He still felt guilty about shooting Smith, even though he knew he shouldn't, and now he wondered whether the shot from a Reaver weapon, right after she'd been poisoned, had made things worse.

Someone poked him in the small of his back. He whirled around. River was standing there. "What'd you do that for, gorramit?"

She looked at him with that freaky knowing expression, the one he hated even though he was getting used to it, and said, "I know how to wake her up." Her voice was quiet. No one looked over from where Simon was jabbering about "neuropeptides."

_She was right about the poison,_ Jayne thought. "How?" he asked her.

She rolled her eyes and said, "I told you before. Like the fairy tale."

All of a sudden Jayne knew what to do. He pushed past Mal and Simon to Smith's bedside. Her hair was lank on the pillow, and her skin looked dull and slack. With all animation gone, you could see the fine lines at the corners of her eyes. Her age and experience showed in her hands, too, now that they weren't moving. Jayne felt so full of something -- love, loss, sadness, fear, he didn't rightly know -- that for the first time in his life he wished he were good with words so he could try to tell her. He bent over her, gathered her up into his arms, and kissed her as hard and as good as he could, a kiss with everything in it that he had to give.

And then her lips moved a little under his, and she gasped into his mouth. He pulled away and saw that her green eyes were open, looking at him. Her hands tightened on the bedsheets.

She swallowed and blinked, then licked her lips and whispered, "Jayne. . . ?"

_Hello, princess, _Jayne said, but only to himself.

Mal pulled him back, not too rough, so that Simon could get to Smith, and he found Kaylee standing next to him, laughing with delight and hugging him.

She grinned. "What happened to your rule about not kissin' 'em on the mouth, Jayne?"

"Special occasion," the merc replied. "Anyways, she started it."


	18. Chapter 18

"She's awake, but she ain't _back_," Jayne complained to Book.

They were three days away from New Iberia, and it was three days since Smith'd woken up. Her leg wound was almost healed. She wasn't even limping. For three days she'd eaten her meals and answered everybody's questions and listened to their accounts of what happened in the fight. She'd even thanked Jayne for shooting her. But she spent most of her time in her cabin, alone. Whenever anyone stopped by, she was just sitting in her chair or on her bed, awake but aimless-looking. She politely refused all invitations to play hoopball or lift weights or take tea in Inara's shuttle.

"I know what you mean," the shepherd said. He shook his head. "I've tried to talk to her, see if I could comfort her, but she doesn't want anything from the Church. She's nice about it, though. Just looks at me like she's really seeing something else and says no thank you. Doctor says she's been the same with him, says she doesn't need any mood-boosters, she's fine."

"She ain't fine." Jayne was frustrated. "It's like . . . the light's off."

"Maybe when we get to New Iberia, and she has a change of scene--"

"No," said Jayne. He walked out of the hold without another word. He didn't want Smith getting better in New Iberia, after she was off _Serenity._ He didn't want to think about her leaving. He just wanted the old Smith back. And he'd just realized that there was one person he hadn't talked to about her.

He found River on the daybed outside the infirmary. Simon was nowhere in sight. _Must be hangin' round Kaylee somewhere,_ Jayne thought. _Ah, hell, good for him._

River looked up at him and, in that damned unsettling way she had sometimes, seemed to know why he'd come. "She doesn't want to any more," the girl said. "It's all right, I can do it by myself now. But it was nice to share. . . ."

Gingerly, as if negotiating a fragile truce, Jayne sat on the daybed next to the girl. "Have you--have you talked to her about it?" He made a helpless gesture with one hand. "Why she won't--why she's like this now?"

River tilted her head and gave Jayne a cool, appraising gaze. "Has to be you," she said, and then added, almost challengingly, "if you can."

Jayne struggled to understand, and to keep his temper. "Why? Why does it have to be me?"

She swung her hair in front of her face and giggled, peeping out at him between the strands. "You know why." Then she sighed. "Okay, simple answer for simple man: You saved her. Twice. Now she's your responsibility. Go fix her."

Jayne swallowed. He couldn't believe he had come to feng le River Tam for advice, or that he was thinking of following it. "What if . . . I can't do it?"

The girl shrugged and rose from the daybed. "Legs for walking, what about talking?" she sang softly as she pirouetted of the infirmary. "Dark and deep, poisoned sleep."

Jayne stared after her, racking his brain. Then he remembered that awful day, and the girl chanting in the infirmary. "River? What was the third part?"

She smiled like someone bestowing a medal and whispered, "Always breaking, never making." Then she scampered off.

Jayne tapped on Smith's door.

"Come in." Smith's voice was soft. Listless, like she didn't care who was out there or whether they came in or not. He went in.

She was sitting on her bed, pillows behind her back and legs stretched out in front of her. She could've looked comfortable, but she didn't. She just looked empty.

Jayne stood in the middle of her cabin, feeling big and clumsy and uncertain.

"Hello," she said. "Have you come to check up on me? That's nice. The leg's practically as good as new."

"I ain't here about the leg," he said, wishing he could do this with fists or bullets or anything but gorram words.

"Why are you here?" she asked, but not like she really cared.

"I want to ask you--to ask you. . . " Jayne stammered to a halt. Out popped the first thing he could think of: "What's your first name?"

There was a flicker of something, maybe amusement, in her eyes, and she sort of smiled. "Oh. I never said, did I? It's Aurora."

"Hmm. Don't like it much," Jayne confessed.

"Neither do I, but it doesn't matter."

"I'm just gonna call you Smith, if that's okay."

"It's okay. So--that's it, then."

"No." Jayne squared his shoulders. "I came here to talk to you, and I ain't leaving until you tell me what's wrong. Look, I know it was bad, really bad, what nearly happened to us. Hell, I was terrified. That fight, it was worse'n any nightmare. But it's over, and you did fine. You should be happy you made it. What ain't ya?" He looked at her beseechingly, and after a long minute her face changed. She looked awful, like someone who'd lost everything and all hope. Jayne sat on the edge of her bed. "What is it?" he asked. "Tell me. Please."

"I don't know if I can explain," she said in a low voice. "I keep thinking of those Reavers, when they were coming at me, grabbing me--"

"But that's over now, and you're safe!" Jayne cried.

"It's not fear I feel," she said. "But I looked into their eyes, and I can't forget what I saw. I could see into their minds, their lives and thoughts, just for those seconds. Maybe the drug they gave me had something to do with it, I don't know. But now I know how they see the world. I felt what they feel, and I'll never be free of it. Everything, every living thing, is just dead meat walking, waiting to be peeled and stripped away. Nothing means anything to them, not blood, not bone, not life. It's all hollow, shells over the dark. The only thing that matters is tearing apart the shells, destroying everything, letting the nothingness spill out."

Jayne worked his lips once or twice, not knowing what to say.

"It didn't make me one of them," Smith continued quietly. "And I know it isn't the whole truth. But I can't care about anything any more. In the end it's all just hollow shells and death. It doesn't matter how we get there." She turned her face to the wall.

_Always breaking, never making. . . ._

Jayne's eyes darted around her cabin. She had to have -- there it was, tucked down into a side pocket of the chair. Her notebook. If she'd been writing a new book, it'd be in there. He walked over and picked it up, then carried it back to the bed, lifted one of her limp hands -- just like in the infirmary that day -- and placed it on the notebook.

"It does matter how we get there," he told her. "There's people waitin' to read this." He bent over and kissed her on the forehead and left.

That night when Smith came to dinner she said to River, "Tomorrow morning?" The girl nodded. After dinner Smith stayed with the rest of them in the common area, playing mah jongg. She seemed a little tentative, like somone learning to be around people again after a long time away, but she laughed like all the rest when Jayne bluffed Wash into betting one of his precious dinos, and losing.

And before they all dispersed, she asked Jayne, "Think it's too soon for me to do some squats?"

"Prob'ly," he told her. "Let's do upper body tomorrow."

That night Jayne lay restless and unsatisfied in his bunk, even after jacking off. He just couldn't sleep. But it'd been a good day. He'd done it, and it didn't matter if anyone but River ever knew that. His Smith was back. Well, she wasn't his, but at least she was back.


	19. Chapter 19

On the last night before New Iberia Smith excused herself right after eating. "It's a big day tomorrow," she said. "I've got to pack, and I want to finish a little writing." Kaylee jumped up to hug her, and Smith laughed and said, "Hey, let's save the farewells until tomorrow. There'll be time. I'll see you all then." She left the common area.

Jayne sat at the table, sharpening his knives, until everyone else had gone. He wished he could get drunk, but they were all out of alcohol.

He thought about stopping by her cabin to say goodbye in private, but Simon and Kaylee were necking on the daybed, so he just kept going toward his quarters. When he slid down the ladder into his bunk, he found Smith there.

She was standing with her back to him, as though she were nervous. Or maybe wondering whether she wanted to be there at all. Jayne couldn't stand that thought. He crossed the little room and stood right behind her, his body just brushing hers. He put his hands on her bare shoulders. She didn't draw away. He kissed the base of her neck, and still she didn't move away. Instead she sighed and relaxed against him, dropping her head back. His lips moved up her neck. She was soft there, and she tasted or smelled just a little bit like that tea she was always drinking. His blood was pounding. He knew she could feel the hard bulge in his pants.

He moved to the other side of her neck, kissing and licking and nipping. She shifted slightly, tiny teasing movements, rubbing herself against him. He took the hem of her shirt in both hands and pulled it over her head so that he could bend down and kiss her upper back, flat muscle sheathed in silky skin. She shuddered and made a little sound of pleasure.

Jayne traced her ribs with his fingertips until he was grazing the soft underside of her breasts. His palms cupped them and they were just like he'd imagined, taut and smooth and just right in his hands. When his thumbs found her nipples he groaned and throbbed. They were long, the size of the end of his little finger, and they were as hard as he was. He circled his palms across the stiff tips and she groaned, too, and arched her back to thrust her breasts against his hands. Now her hips were rocking back and forth against him, her cheeks massaging his erection. He spun her around and bent his mouth to one of those erect peaks while his fingers worked the other one. She wove her fingers through his hair and clutched his head to her. He sucked her good, teasing with his tongue, and she panted his name as she ground her hips against him.

"Let me feel you," she gasped. He drew his mouth away from her wet breast and stood, breathing hard, while she pulled his shirt over his head. They looked at each other and then they were kissing, tasting each other's lips and mouths, exploring with their tongues. He pulled her hard against him, excited by the scrape of her nipples across his chest and the urgent grasping of her hands on his back, at the waist of his pants. He needed her to touch him now.

Jayne sat on his bed and pulled her down beside him. When he went for her waist buckle, she didn't stop him; she raised her hips so that he could lower her trousers. He tugged off her boots and socks and pulled off her pants.

"Now you," she said. He stood up and stripped. John Thomas was ready to go, quivering with eagerness, and Jayne almost lost it when she leaned forward and slowly took him into her mouth. Jayne's whole body melted with pleasure, all except for the hard hot center that was thrusting into her mouth. If this went on, he wouldn't be able to--

"Ah, ta da me, darlin', that's good," he crooned as he gently took her head in both hands and withdrew. "Too good. Don't want me t'come just now, do ya?"

Smith lay back on his bed and spread her legs for him. "I do want you to come, Jayne! Inside me. Now, please!"

Gone were all his fantasies about slow, thorough lovemaking with Smith. He needed her and she wanted him. The extras could wait until next time.

He knelt between her legs. "You sure you're ready?"

Smith grabbed one of his hands and guided it. "What do you think?"

He looked her in the eyes as he pushed inside, just as he'd imagined doing so many times, and he saw what he needed to know. She was no empty shell, and neither was he. With a growl he drove himself deep and drew her into an embrace, riding her while she rocked him. He had no idea how much or how little time had passed when he felt her tighten around him and heard her cry out. He came in her so hard and so long that it almost made him weep.

They made love for hours, laughing and murmuring and gasping, until they were both trembling. Exhausted and sticky, Jayne fell asleep with his arm around her and the smell of her in his nostrils. When he woke up only the stickiness and the smell remained.


	20. Chapter 20

The farewells were over.

There'd been tears and hugs from the women and a sniffle or two from Wash. Smith had promised River and Kaylee that she'd see to it that they got to read her book as soon as it was finished, before it was even published. She'd thanked Shepherd Book and Simon for all they'd done for her.

Mal had said only, "We'll be back here in a year, Miss Smith." She'd nodded. And then Jayne had carried her duffel down the ramp and out into the street to hail her a jitney.

They stood in New Iberia's incessant drizzle and looked at one another. There were a lot of things Jayne wished he'd said to her, one thing in particular, but he felt he'd missed the chance, if there ever really had been a chance. So all he said was, "You gonna be okay?"

She smiled at him. "I am now. Thank you for that. For everything."

He felt himself reddening. "Same here."

A jitney stopped. He put her duffel into it. "If you need anything," he began, "if things don't work out for you here -- you know how to reach us?"

She put a hand on his arm. "I do."

"Maybe you'll be ready to get outta here when we come back. . . ."

"If I am," she said, "I'll get in touch with _Serenity_'s public relations expert." And then she raised that hand to his cheek, real gentle, and stroked his lips with her thumb, and got into the jitney and rode away.

Nine hours later the cargo door had been replaced and the cargo offloaded. _Serenity_ was spaceborne again. Everyone seemed fine, happy even, just like things were normal. Everyone but him. No one else knew how he felt, and he couldn't tell them even if he wanted to, which he didn't. They didn't know how it had been between him and Smith. He sat on his weight bench in the empty hold. He didn't feel like lifting weights. Didn't feel like doing anything.

There was a feather-light footstep behind him and small hands landed like birds on his shoulders.

"Get off me, girl," he growled, but he couldn't even work up any real anger.

The birds fluttered away, but River leaned close and said, "When you're ready, I'll teach you."

Jayne shook his head, irritated. "Teach me what?"

"What she taught me."

"The sittin' thing? Oh, that's rich. That'll be the day, me and you, sittin' and not thinkin'." He snorted.

"You'll see," River said smugly. Jayne let it be. Wasn't worth arguing with the girl. Crazy mind-reading genius.

"I miss her, too," River whispered in his ear, and left.

THE END


End file.
